Chapter 179
Serena
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“There’s no need for you to come with me,” I said.
“We’re already walking,” Kieran said. “What difference does it
make at this point?”
“I’m going to see a patient,” I said. “For treatment. It isn’t a
social visit.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
I stopped walking.
I looked at him.
He ate and said the right things over lunch. He was still here, walking beside me toward Cartridge mansion with no sign of
turning back.
“Just go home,” I said. “I’ll be back soon.”
He stopped. He looked at me for a moment, not moving, his hands in his pockets.
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I want us to have a real second chance.”
I looked at him.
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“Okay,” I said. “We will. And I have to go to work.”
He held my gaze for a second longer. Then he stepped back.
“Go,” he said.
I went.
Bertram opened the door at Cartridge mansion. He gave me
a curt nod and the bare minimum of eye contact, then led me through to the threshold of Elan’s study. I walked in.
Elan was by the window, already turned in the chair to face
“You’re on time,” he said. “Bertram told me you were coming.”
“I told him I was coming,” I said. “Did he pass that on, or did he keep it to himself and let you be surprised?”
Elan tilted his head. “He told me eventually.”
progress,” I said.
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past few weeks. His improvement was real and measurable. Not the dramatic shifts I hoped for at the start, but progress that came in and held, his wolf pushing through in small surges rather than retreating as it used to. By the end of
the hour his colour was better than the week before. He sat
straighter in the chair.
When we finished and I packed up my things, Elan leaned
back and looked at me.
“Would you like to stay? Bertram can put something
together.”
I looked around the room. The lamp was on. Elan sat across
from me with his hands loose on the armrests.
“I’d like to,” I said. “But I should go home.”
He nodded. He didn’t press.
“There’s something for you,” he said. He made a small
gesture toward the door, and one of the household staff
came in almost immediately with a flat wooden box in both
hands.
The jewelry box. My jewelry box. 3/9
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wait for me.”
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“I rarely leave the house,” he said. “There’s no particular
reason to. This was the easiest way.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” I said. “You should have a reason to leave. Come see me. Come to the hospital for a visit. Come anywhere.” I looked at him. “I’ll be glad to see you. Any time.”
He smiled. His chin came up with it and he held it.
“I’ll come,” he said.
“I’ll hold you to that.” I held up the box. “Thank you for keeping this safe.”
I sat back down. He looked at me. He set his hands flat on the
armrests and leaned forward.
“Have you thought any more about what you were worried
about before?” he said. “What becomes of you when it’s time
to give birth. Where you’ll be and who’ll be with you.”
Aina pressed in my chest.
“I think about it,” I said. “I’m hoping I’ll be divorced before
that day comes. The problem is that nothing I’ve tried has
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nothing. And he doesn’t want to give me the divorce.” I looked at my hands. “I’m running out of ideas and running out of
time.”
Elan was quiet for a moment.
“Keep trying,” he said. “You’re not out of options, you’re just out of the obvious ones. There are other approaches.” He leaned forward. “And when the time comes, whatever happens before it, I’ll help however I can. You won’t be alone
for that.”
I exhaled.
“Thank you,” I said. “That means more than you know.”
He looked at me with his chin steady. “I mean it,” he said. “Go
home and rest. You look tired.”
“I am tired,” I said.
I stood. I picked up the box and my bag. I walked out through
Bertram’s hallway and back into the street.
I hurried over to my parents’ house because it’s been a while
since the last time I saw them.
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knees and looked at the floor. Neither of them spoke for a
moment.
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“We trust you,” my mother said finally. “Whatever it is you’re
doing, we trust you.”
“I know,” I said. “Thank you for that.”
I stayed for an hour. My mother made tea. I ate what she put in front of me. I let the evening be ordinary for a little while.
Aina settled in my chest, quiet.
Then I went home.
Kieran was on the sofa when I walked in.
He stood up.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m tired,” I said. “But yes.”
He nodded. He sat back down without pushing further.
“Have you thought about your mother’s gift?” he asked. “I
picked up a few things this afternoon. We could combine 7/9
them and take everything to her together.”
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I looked at him.
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“I got her something already,” I said. “But that sounds good.” I paused. “Thank you. For thinking of it.”
He nodded. He looked back at the television.
I walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.
He was doing it on purpose.
That was the part that made me angry. He cooked. He
showed up. He drove. He thought about my mother’s gifts. He
stood up when I walked in and asked if I was all right. Every single action was designed to make it harder for me to leave.
To make me receive his care in front of him, say thank you,
perform the role of a woman being attended to.
I was not being attended to.
I was being held.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He did it because I had
no choice but to stand there and accept it, because refusing would look like the problem and complying looked like
progress. He built no case against himself this way. Nothing I
Could use.
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I pressed her back.
I needed something his good behaviour couldn’t block. The longer he kept this up, the harder my case became. I needed to think faster. I needed something he couldn’t smile and
cook his way around.
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