Then Silas laughed.
It was a cold sound, utterly without humor. "Jealousy. Is that what you think this is?" He placed a hand on Thallos's chest and pushed, creating distance between them with surprising ease. "I'm trying to save the girl from making the same mistake so many others have made. Falling for Thallos the charmer, Thallos the seducer, without realizing that underneath all that magnetic appeal is a man who doesn't know how to stay."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know everything about you." Silas's voice dropped, losing its mocking edge for something rawer. "I've watched you destroy every relationship you've ever had. Mother. Father. Me. Every woman foolish enough to love you. You run, brother. It's what you do. And when you're done with this one"—he jerked his chin toward Marigold—"you'll run from her too."
The silence that followed was absolute.
She watched Thallos's face, searching for denial, for reassurance, for some sign that Silas's words were nothing but poison. But what she saw was worse than denial.
She saw doubt.
"Thallos," she said softly.
He turned to look at her, and the anguish in his eyes nearly broke her heart. All the playfulness stripped away, all the charm dissolved—this was the man beneath the mask. Vulnerable. Terrified. Expecting to be abandoned.
Just like me,she realized.Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Don't listen to him," he said hoarsely. "He doesn't—he's just trying to?—"
"I know." She moved toward him, ignoring Silas entirely. "I know what he's trying to do."
"Marigold—"
She took his hand. His fingers were trembling.
"You didn’t tell me about your brother."
"I know." He swallowed hard. "I was going to. I just… I didn't want…"
"I understand." And she did, suddenly. All those conversations where she'd spilled her heart about Daisy, where he'd listened and held her and never once offered up his own family wounds. Not because he didn't have them, but because he was too afraid of what she'd think. Of how she'd react.
Just like she'd been afraid to let him see her real feelings.
They were so alike, the two of them. Both hiding behind walls, both terrified of rejection, both convinced that the people who should love them would eventually leave.
"How touching," Silas drawled. "Truly. But I wonder, Miss Bloom—when the time comes, and it will—will you still be so understanding? When he disappears in the middle of the night, or decides that your little flower shop isn't exciting enough, or finds someone younger and prettier and more willing?—"
"I think you should leave."
Her voice was calm. Steady. The same tone she'd used when she finally stood up to Daisy, when she'd claimed her independence for the first time in her life.
Silas blinked, clearly thrown. "I beg your pardon?"
"Leave." She stepped forward, positioning herself beside Thallos rather than behind him. "I don't know what happened between you and your brother. I don't know why you're so determined to hurt him. But whatever poison you're selling, I'm not buying."
"You don't know him like I do."
"You're right. I don't know his past. I don't know every mistake he's made or every person he's disappointed." She lifted her chin, meeting Silas's dark gaze without flinching. "But I know who he is now. I know how he treats me. And I know that what we have is real—not because it's easy or perfect, but because we're both fighting for it."
Silas's expression flickered—surprise, frustration, something almost like grudging respect.
"You're making a mistake."
"Maybe. But it's mine to make." She squeezed Thallos's hand. "Now leave. Before I have to ask him to make you."
For a long moment, no one moved. The grove seemed to hold its breath, the fireflies frozen mid-flight, the crickets gone silent.
