"You're just a responsibility I've had to carry since childhood." His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. Each word was perfectly enunciated, perfectly cruel. "Nothing more."

And for the first time tonight, I wished he had kept his mouth shut.

"If you didn't cling to me," he continued, his gaze dropping to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes, "I wouldn't have to share space with you."

His words stung like a knife twisted deep, then left there.

He was such a bastard. Such a heartless, soulless bastard. If he wanted to stay away from me, fine. I'd make it easy for him. I'd make it so easy he'd never have to look at me again.

I jerked my arm free — or he let me go, I couldn't tell — and stormed into my room. The door slammed shut behind me with a sound that seemed to echo through the whole flat. The silence pressed against my ears, heavy and suffocating. I slid down against the wood, my legs giving out, and pressed my forehead to my knees.

My hands were trembling.

I took deep breaths, trying to steady the tremor, trying to remember how to be a person who hadn't just been told she was worthless by the only man whose opinion had ever mattered.

Then I grabbed my phone.

Maggie had mentioned needing a roommate last week — her flat was closer to campus, a fresh start within reach. A place where no one would look at me like I was a burden. A place where I could breathe.

The call was short. Functional. Yes, she still needed someone. Yes, the room was mine if I wanted it. Yes, we had the same classes, we could travel together.

"Let me talk to my father," I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else. "I'll tell you when I'm shifting."

Now came the hardest part.

I dialed my father's number, my thumb hovering over the call button, my heart hammering against my ribs. He picked up on the third ring, his voice warm and far away, carrying the sound of home.

"Hello my dear daughter. What are you doing?"

"Nothing, just had dinner with a friend." The lie tasted clean. "Dad, I want to ask you something."

"What is it, Hazel?"

"I want to shift in with my friend. Maggie. She has the same classes, and her flat is closer to campus."

A pause. Then — "Why? Is Advik not taking good care of you?"

The question landed wrong. Because Advik was taking care of me. He was taking care of me the way a warden takes care of a prisoner — watching, controlling, deciding what I was allowed to feel.

"He takes good care of me," I said, and the words felt like gravel in my mouth. "It's just... Maggie and I have the same schedule. It makes sense."

Another pause. Longer this time. I could hear my father breathing, could picture him frowning at the phone, and for one terrible second I thought he would say no. That he would tell me Advik had already called. That the arrangement was final. That I belonged there.

"Fine," he said finally. "Do as you wish. You're grown up now, capable of making your own decisions. I won't stop you."

"Thank you, Dad." My voice cracked. "You're the best."

"When are you coming back to meet us?"

"In a month. There are holidays. I'll visit."

We said our goodbyes. I ended the call and stared at the black screen, my reflection staring back at me — pale, hollow-eyed, a stranger.

Yes.

I would shift in a week. Advik wouldn't have to put up with me anymore. He wouldn't have to drag me out of diners or warn boys away or share space with someone he clearly despised. I was done being his burden. His responsibility. His nothing.

I was finally free.

I said the words to my empty room, letting them hang in the air like a promise.

But outside my door, I heard the floorboards creak.

Once.

Then silence.

Sleep didn't come easy.

I lay in the dark for hours, staring at the ceiling, Advik's words looping in my head like a song I couldn't stop. You don't have that much value. Nothing more. I pressed my palm flat against my chest, trying to feel something other than the hollow space he'd carved there. Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under — but even my dreams were restless, crowded with the smell of rain and the weight of hands on my throat.

When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me.

So close I could count his lashes. See the flecks of gold in his dark irises catch the morning light. My breath hitched, heart stuttering in my chest like a trapped thing. What was he doing in my room? Didn't I lock the door last night?

I scrambled backward, my spine hitting the headboard. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to wake you up." His voice was flat. Morning-rough. He didn't move back, didn't apologize for the invasion. "Have your breakfast. I need to drop you to school."

"You don't need to. I'll manage myself."

His eyes narrowed, just slightly. "Don't talk back to me. Just get ready fast. I'm waiting in the hall."

Then he stood and left, the door clicking shut behind him with a sound that felt too final.

I sat there, my pulse hammering against my throat, and stared at the door. Had he heard me last night? The call to my father? The floorboards had creaked — I hadn't imagined that. But his face this morning gave away nothing. Just the same cold control. The same dismissal.

Just endure it for a week, Hazel, I told myself, throwing off the covers. Then you can leave forever.

I got ready quickly, pulling on a simple blue dress and running a brush through my hair with hands that still trembled slightly. When I stepped out, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the window. But he turned when he heard my footsteps.

He looked at me.

Really looked at me, his gaze dragging from my face down to my toes and back up again, slow and deliberate, like he was cataloging something he planned to remember. I checked myself frantically — did I wear something wrong? Was my dress inside out? Was there a stain?

Then his eyes shifted to the food on the table.

Toast. Eggs. Coffee, black, the way he knew I didn't drink it.

Never mind. I ate in silence, shoveling the food down faster than necessary, desperate to escape his suffocating presence. He didn't eat. He just watched me, his own coffee untouched, and the quiet between us grew teeth.

He drove me to school without a word.