The blanket was his.
Juliette knew it the second she woke up. Soft, heavy, smelled like cedar and something expensive that lived in his side of the house. She'd fallen asleep on the sofa. She didn't remember getting there.
She also didn't remember taking her meds.
But there they were. On her nightstand. In her room. Next to a glass of water that hadn't been there last night.
And her phone.
New app. Health tracker. Already synced. Already showing her sleep from last night in neat little graphs. Heart rate. Movement.
She didn't download it.
Her stomach dropped.
Cassian was in the kitchen when she walked in. Dressed. Tie loose. Hair like he'd run his hands through it all night. He looked up and his whole face softened.
"Hey. How's your head?"
It was the same question from last night. The same voice. The one that made her tea and watched her like she might shatter.
It should have felt good.
It didn't.
"You said something to me," Juliette said. Her voice came out flat. "After the hospital. You remember?"
He set his coffee down. "Juliette"
"You said you didn't want us to live like strangers anymore. You said let's start with honesty and presence." She pulled her phone out, held it up. The app was open. "Is this presence, Cassian?"
His jaw tightened. "I was worried. You left work early. You said you were just tired. And I read a report meaning to it
"No, you're not," Juliette snapped. "You know who is? Me. I'm the one who gets to be scared of my body. I'm the one who gets to decide if I need a doctor. I'm the one who gets to feel dizzy without you turning it into a security protocol."
She was ranting now. She could hear it. The words tripping over each other because they'd been sitting in her throat for months.
"You want to talk about after the hospital? Fine. Let's talk about it. I was on that couch. Crying. Telling you I was tired of pretending I didn't care. Telling you I used to lie awake thinking I could disappear and you wouldn't notice. Remember that? You were on your knees, Cassian. You wiped my face. You said you didn't marry me to make me feel invisible. You said you didn't want silence. You said 'let me choose honesty first.'"
His face was blank. Not cold. Blank like he'd been slapped.
"So where was the honesty?" she went on. "Did you call my doctor and say, 'hey, just a heads up, I'm installing tracking software on my wife's phone'? Did you ask me if I wanted you in my room? No. You just did it. Because you were scared. And your fear gets to be louder than my voice. Again."
"Juliette, I—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't say you were worried. I know you were. I believe you. But worried doesn't mean you get to take over. All this while since I came home, you've been here. And I was stupid enough to think that meant you were listening. But you weren't. You were just waiting for a reason to drive again."
The kitchen was dead quiet. The coffee machine hissed.
She sucked in a breath. Her hands were shaking. Good. Let him see it.
"You know what the worst part is?" she said, quieter now. "Last time I cried. I gave you the whole broken speech. And you held me. And I thought that meant something. I thought you heard me when I said I didn't want to be chosen because you were afraid of losing me. I said I didn't want pity. I didn't want obligation."
She looked him dead in the eye. "This feels like obligation, Cassian. This feels like you're managing a liability. Not loving a wife."
He flinched. Actually flinched.
"I thought if I wasn't absent, that was enough," he said. His voice was rough. Scraped raw. "I thought being here was the point."
"Being here isn't the point if you're only here to take control," she shot back. "Presence isn't you going into my room. Presence isn't you knowing my heart rate before I do. Presence is you sitting on that damn sofa until I wake up and asking me if I need my meds. It's waiting for the answer. Even if the answer is no. Even if the answer scares you."
She deleted the app. Right in front of him. Her thumb was steady.
"You don't get to skip from absent to in charge. There's a step in the middle. It's called beside. You don't know how to do beside yet. So learn."
She turned to leave, then stopped. She wasn't done. She was never done anymore.
"You promised me honesty and presence after the hospital. You kept half. You're here. Congrats. But you broke the other half the second you decided my body was yours to manage because you were scared. So here's my honesty, since you wanted it."
She stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough that he couldn't look away.
"I'm not your patient. I'm not your project. I'm not your second chance to play hero. I'm your wife. And if you want to be in this marriage, you ask. You wait. You don't assume. You don't fix. You don't decide. You ask me, Cassian. With your words. Like I'm a person. Like I didn't spend months lying next to a stranger who couldn't be bothered to learn my name."
Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated it. She didn't want to cry. She was done crying in front of him.
"I can't do another version of you where your fear matters more than my choice," she finished. "So figure it out. Can you be beside me? Or are you only capable of being above me?"
She walked out.
She didn't slam the door. She went to her room and left it open.
Cassian stood in the kitchen for a long time. The coffee went cold. The house was quiet.
Last time, she'd broken down and he'd promised to stay.
This time, she stood up and told him he was staying wrong.
All this while, he thought her silence had been forgiveness.
Tonight, he learned it had been a countdown.