Page 62 of Glass Jawed

The soft metallic click of the lock turning.

She’s here.

Time slows.

And I prepare myself—for annihilation of my own damn making.

SEVENTEEN

Aarohi

There’s something unnatural about silence when your world’s about to implode.

I close Lucian’s door behind me with care—my eyes falling to the floor.

My plushy slippers are there, right by the entrance. A little worn at the heel.

But they’re not alone.

No. There’s a pair of black stilettos sitting beside them. Sharp. Sleek. The kind of shoes you don’t wear for walking.

They weren’t here this morning,I think uselessly.

I stare at them like they’re some kind of puzzle, like they might start explaining themselves if I wait long enough. But they stay quiet. They say nothing.

And neither do I.

I toe off my shoes and slide into my—the slippers. Like this is just another normal night, and I’m not about to walk into a crime scene where the corpse is my trust.

I take a step. Then another. My body moves, but everything inside me has gone still. I’m operating on pure, fractured instinct.

I don’t call his name. I don’t ask questions I already know the answers to.

I just walk toward the bedroom.

Because I need tosee.

Not because I don’t believe it.

But because I do.

And some part of me—stupid, masochistic, hopeful—wants proof that this pain has a shape. A face. A reason.

That it’s real.

Thatweweren’t.

And I sardonically find myself thinking—this is how Lucian felt that night.Even now, even in this moment, my brain still wants to empathize with the man undoing me.

I don’t brace myself. I don’t look for courage. I don’t even have the impulse to hesitate.

I just push. The door swings open.

I’m expecting it.

But my breath still hitches. My chest still caves inward at the sight.

Lucian is standing near the bed. His bed.Ourbed.