Chương 8
Almost.
Then he continued.
“But I need you to understand something.”
I waited.
“I never thought I was hurting you.”
There it was.
The sentence I had been waiting for.
The one that explained everything.
“You thought it was okay.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I thought you could handle it.”
I looked at him.
And for the first time, I saw the exact shape of the problem.
Julian did not believe I was weak.
He believed I was strong enough to be used.
I stood up.
“I have to go.”
“Sloan.”
I picked up my bag.
“I hope you figure out why you needed me to be strong all the time.”
I paused.
“But I am not going to be the person who helps you learn.”
I walked outside.
The air was cold.
The city was loud.
People rushed past me carrying groceries, talking on phones, living ordinary lives.
I stood on the sidewalk and realized something.
I was still scared.
I was still grieving.
I was still angry.
But I was no longer trapped.
And that was the first thing Julian could never take from me again.
The first thing I noticed when I returned to Darcy’s apartment was that I had started leaving things around.
A sweater on the back of a chair.
A book open on the coffee table.
A pair of shoes beside the door.
Small signs that I existed somewhere.
For years, I had kept every room looking untouched because Fiona liked things arranged perfectly and Julian liked coming home to a place where nothing reminded him that another person lived there.
I had mistaken invisibility for peace.
Now the mess felt almost comforting.
Darcy noticed the change before I did.
“You stopped apologizing for taking up space.”
I looked up from the kitchen counter.
“I did?”
“Yes.”
She pointed toward the mug beside my laptop.
“You left that there overnight.”
I looked at it.
Then I laughed.
“That is your evidence?”
“It is very strong evidence.”
I shook my head.
“You are strange.”
“I am an attorney.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It explains everything.”
For a moment, we laughed.
A normal laugh.
The kind that did not need to be earned.
Then my phone vibrated.
The smile disappeared before I even saw the screen.
Darcy noticed.
“You do not have to answer every time.”
“I know.”
But I looked anyway.
It was a message from Julian.
“I found something in your office.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Another message appeared.
“Your father’s watch.”
I froze.
The watch.
I had been so focused on documents and finances that I had forgotten it was still in the condo.
I called him.
He answered quickly.
“You saw my message.”
“Where is it?”
“In my office.”
“Your office?”
“The office we shared.”
I closed my eyes.
Even now.
Even in this.
He needed to correct the language.
“Julian, I want the watch.”
“I know.”
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
“Why did you take everything else and leave that?”
Because I had forgotten.
Because it was not an object I could replace.
Because some things were heavier than their size.
“I did not take it because I did not see it.”
A pause.
“You still care about things from before us.”
The sentence sounded almost like an accusation.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I do not know.”
He exhaled.
“I guess I thought everything before me was something you left behind.”
I leaned against the counter.
For a second, I heard the old Julian.
The insecure one.
The person who always felt like he was competing with something.
My father.
My career.
My independence.
But understanding someone did not mean excusing them.
“Okay.”
Another pause.
Then he said,
“Sloan.”
“Yes?”
“I am sorry about the kitchen.”
I said nothing.
Because the apology was real enough to acknowledge but not enough to erase anything.
“I should not have done that.”
“No.”
“I was angry.”
“That does not make it okay.”
“I know.”
The words surprised me.
Maybe because he finally said them without defending himself.
“I really do know.”
I sat down.
The room became quieter.
“Why did you do it?”
I asked.
The question came out before I could reconsider.
Julian was silent for a long time.
“I do not know.”
That answer hurt more than a lie would have.
“You do not know?”
“I knew I was angry.”
He swallowed.
“I knew my mother was upset.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“I think I was scared.”
I looked down.
“Of what?”
“That if you stopped doing everything, there would be nothing holding things together.”
I stared at the floor.
The honesty was uncomfortable.
Because buried inside his terrible behavior was something human.
A fear.
A weakness.
A person who had chosen the worst possible way to deal with it.
“I was holding things together because you kept letting go.”
Silence.
Then Julian said,
“I know.”
I ended the call after that.
Not because I hated him.
That would have been easier.
I ended it because I was tired of carrying both sides of every conversation.
The next day, I returned to the condo with Darcy.
Julian was not there.
That made the visit easier.
And somehow harder.
The place looked different without him.
Not because anything had changed.
Because I had.
I walked into the office.
The watch was sitting on the desk.
Beside it was an old photograph.
Me and my father at a baseball game when I was sixteen.
I picked it up.
I had forgotten Julian kept it there.
Behind the frame was a small note.
My father’s handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
My hands started shaking.
I turned the paper over.
It was not a message.
Just three words.
“Be kind. Be brave.”
I sat down.
Darcy stayed near the doorway.
She did not ask what was wrong.
She knew some moments belonged only to the person experiencing them.
“My father wrote this.”
May you like
She nodded.
“He sounds like someone who knew you.”
