Nathaniel came after midnight.
The house had gone quiet. Even the maids had retreated. The city outside was a field of cold, sleepless lights.
He closed the door and looked at the untouched dinner tray.
“You haven’t eaten.”
I didn’t answer.
He loosened his tie and walked toward me with that familiar expression I once mistook for concern.
“Nathaniel,” I said before he could speak, “why did you marry me?”
He stopped.
Maybe he hadn’t expected that.
Maybe he thought I would beg again. Or scream. Or accuse.
But I only wanted one thing.
The truth.
His silence lasted long enough for me to already know the answer.
Then he said, “Because once upon a time, I thought I owed you.”
I nodded slowly.
Not loved.
Owed.
Of course.
“I saved your life,” I said.
“Yes.”
“I stayed beside you when everyone else wanted something from you.”
“Yes.”
“I loved you when you were impossible to love.”
His jaw flexed.
“And still you believed her over me.”
His eyes turned glacial. “Because Seraphina never asked anything from me.”
I almost pitied him for being stupid enough to believe that.
“She took everything from me,” I whispered.
“She gave me peace,” he shot back.
The words landed clean and deep.
I had been war to him.
Pain. Pressure. Obligation. History.
Seraphina was easy.
Soft.
Smiling.
Grateful when it was convenient.
I wondered if peace would still be what he called her after she was done taking from him too.
Nathaniel stared at me a moment longer. Then his tone shifted.
“If you stop this now, I can still make arrangements.”
“For what?”
“For you to stay in the marriage. For the child to be registered under your name. For the household to show you respect.”
I turned to him in disbelief.
He was offering me scraps.
A title. A child that wasn’t mine. Respect delivered by order, not affection.
Did he really think I would still kneel for that?
“I don’t want her child.”
His face hardened.
“I don’t want your name either,” I continued. “Not anymore.”
He grabbed my chin.
Not hard enough to bruise.
Hard enough to remind me he could.
“You’re being reckless.”
“No,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. “I’m finally waking up.”
For a second, something unreadable crossed his face.
Then he let me go.
“If you leave this house,” he said coldly, “don’t expect anyone to come after you.”
I almost smiled.
That was the one promise from him I believed.
When he reached the door, I said quietly, “Nathaniel.”
He paused.
“You once told me that if I ever disappeared, you would tear the world apart looking for me.”
He didn’t turn around.
People change, Julian had said.
Yes.
They do.
Nathaniel opened the door and walked out.
The countdown slipped lower.
02:12:09.
I stood up, legs trembling, and went to the mirror.
For a long time, I stared at the woman reflected there.
Gaunt face.
Hollow eyes.
A body held together by scars and fury and whatever stubborn instinct had kept me breathing this long.
Then I raised my hand and slowly wiped the tears from my face.
No more.
When I left this world, I wanted my eyes open.