Below it, Tristan had commented: [I’ll always be here for you, Selene.]
I stared at the screen, the words blurring through my tears. Always there for her. Not me. Not the woman he had promised to love.
A message buzzed in:
Tristan: Selene hurt her foot. Taking her to the hospital. Clean up her place and bring soup. No ginger.
I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. It all made sense now. The way he exploded every time I used ginger in our meals. Not because he hated it, but because she did. Selene did.
I wanted to scream, to throw the phone against the wall. But I couldn’t. Years of conditioning kept me in place. I grabbed my coat and headed to my car.
I was already in Selene's house when I saw her draping over Tristan, her arms around his neck. He whispered something to her, soft and tender. Something I hadn’t heard in years.
When he saw me, his eyes hardened. “You’re late,” he snapped. “If Selene’s treatment gets delayed—”
“Tristan, don’t,” Selene said softly, her eyes wide and innocent. “It’s not Ember’s fault. She’s always had… bad impression of me.”