But maybe it was old. Maybe it wasbefore.
My mind started to spiral and panic. My heart started to stutter. We had been together for Months. Months of mornings and nights, of learning each other’s rhythms, of falling in ways I swore I’d never let myself fall again.
This had to be old.
I zoomed in.
No.
A scar that I knew was fresh because I helped patch it up one night in my apartment.
“This isn’t old,” I whispered.
Remi looked up at the sound, saw my face, and stood. “Ava?”
I turned the phone toward her.
She froze. Her eyes flicked to mine, then back to the screen. “Ava…”
“He said he didn’t want drama,” I rasped. “Said she was the problem. That she was twisting everything. That he was building a case against her. That he was going to fix it. Fix the precinct. Fix… us.”
I swallowed. My mouth tasted like iron.
“This doesn’t look like an investigation, Remi. Unless he’s charging her vagina with obstruction of justice.”
Remi flinched.
So did I.
Because it wasn’t even funny. It was pathetic.
It was me. Believing in a man who used soft words and steady hands while the storm I’d been bracing for turned out to be him.
“You need to talk to him,” Remi said softly.
“I did. Ihave.He told me I was it. That I was different. That he...” My voice cracked.
Remi stepped closer. “He loves you.”
I laughed. One sharp, broken sound. “How do I know that? Because he said so?”
She didn’t answer.
I took a step back.
“I thought I did. But isn’t that what they all say?I love you. I’d never hurt you. You’re different.”
My throat ached. My spine stayed straight.
“I thought I knew him,” I said. “But isn’t that the story every woman tells herself right before the truth burns through the lie?”
I stared at the phone one last time.
At her in his mirror.
At the scar, I had traced too many times since it healed.
Then I turned and walked out before Remi could stop me.
