WHAT THE VOWS DIDN'T SAY

The hallway light flickered as I unlocked the apartment door.

I stepped inside quietly, shutting it behind me with practiced care. The air felt warmer than usual. Not in temperature, but in weight, less thick, less ready to strangle. No music playing. No boots kicked across the living room floor. No smell of alcohol or aftershave hanging heavy in the air.

Just quiet.

The kind of quiet that didn't press against your skin like a warning.

I dropped my bag beside the coat rack, careful not to make a sound. My ribs still ached from days ago, but the pain had settled into something duller, something background. I could move without gasping. That was new.

Marcus wasn't home yet.

And that... that felt like a small mercy.

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, fingers still trembling faintly from the way Sebastian had looked at me. From the heat behind his words.

I didn't want to be seen. Not like that.

But I also hadn't stopped thinking about the way he stepped back. The way he didn't force anything. The way his voice cracked, just a little, like he hated the silence too.

I leaned against the counter and took a long drink, letting the water ground me.

A key turned in the front door.

I tensed.

Old habit.

But when Marcus walked in, he didn't slam the door. Didn't shout my name.

He looked...normal.

If such a word could still apply.

He wore a dark blue dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to his elbows. No tie. His hair was mussed like he'd driven with the windows down. He looked at me, eyes pausing just a moment on the glass in my hand, but didn't comment.

Then, surprisingly, he smiled.

Not wide. Not warm. But not cruel either.

"Hey," he said.

Just that. Simple.

"Hey," I answered softly.

I didn't move.

He walked to the kitchen slowly, pulled something small from his pocket. A box. Velvet. Black.

I stared at it.

He held it out like it wasn't strange. Like this was normal.

"What's that?"

Marcus didn't answer right away. Just opened it.

Inside was a necklace, gold, thin, delicate. A single pendant shaped like a teardrop. Clean, expensive-looking.

"It reminded me of you," he said.

I didn't know what to say to that. My thoughts snagged on the word reminded. On the strange softness in his voice.

"I thought you'd like it."

He stepped forward, still holding the box.

Then, without asking, he reached behind my neck and clasped it on.

His fingers brushed my skin, lightly. Not possessively. Not in anger. Just contact.

I froze anyway.

But it didn't come. The blow. The snap. The turn.

He stepped back.

"There," he said. "Looks better on you."

I touched the pendant. It was cool against my collarbone, unfamiliar and strange.

"Thank you," I said, though the words felt paper-thin in my mouth.

Marcus didn't press for more.

He walked to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and sat on the couch like this was just a Thursday evening in a perfectly ordinary home. Like he hadn't shattered me three nights ago. Like he hadn't pinned me against the floor, rage in his hands and eyes.

I stood in the kitchen a while longer, not sure if I was allowed to breathe yet.

But he didn't call me over.

Didn't raise his voice.

Didn't even glance at his phone.

For once, the apartment didn't feel like a place waiting to punish me.

I took the risk and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The mirror caught my reflection. Pale, hollow-eyed. But the necklace caught the light, shimmering like it belonged on someone else's neck entirely.

I ran a thumb over it, slowly.

This was a peace offering.

Or a warning.

I wasn't sure which.

But it told me something all the same.

Marcus wasn't stupid. He'd seen the tension lately. Maybe even sensed that something was pulling my attention elsewhere. And this, this necklace, this sudden strange kindness, was his version of a leash.

Not a chain. A thread.

One he could tighten the moment he wanted.

I stared at my reflection and made a decision.

I would keep my distance from Damian.

I had to.

Even if I couldn't fully avoid him at work, I could limit it. No lingering. No private meetings. No conversations that strayed past data and reports. I wouldn't give Marcus a reason. Wouldn't let the thread snap.

Because Sebastian didn't deserve to be caught in the storm I lived in.

And for now, just for tonight, I wasn't being hit.

That had to be enough.

I left the bathroom quietly and walked to the bedroom. Marcus was still in the living room, watching a show with the volume low. He didn't follow. Didn't ask for anything.

That was rare.

I curled up on the far side of the bed, fingers brushing the pendant again. It still felt foreign, like it didn't belong to me. But it was proof, twisted, strange proof, that Marcus thought he still had control.

And if I could keep that illusion alive, maybe I could buy more nights like this.

Nights where I wasn't broken.

Nights where I didn't bleed.

I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in what felt like years, I fell asleep before midnight.

No crying.

No flinching at shadows.

Just a faint pulse of silver against my chest and the knowledge that, for now, I was safe.

Not free.

But safe.

And that was enough to breathe. Even the heavens saw me smile in my sleep.