Page 112 of This Life of Mine

“You were my job,” I continue, “protective surveillance…risk assessment. That’s what brought me here.”

She crosses her arms, hugging herself now. “So how much have you seen, Alex?”

I swallow, not knowing how to answer her.

“How much of my life do you know without me ever consenting to it?” she presses. “My routines? My house? My good days? My bad days? My sex life?”

Her eyes are glassy, furious, and wounded all at once.

“Enough to keep you alive,” I say.

“That’s not an answer.”

I meet her stare, refusing to dodge it. “I didn’t watch you to judge you. I watched because someone put a clock on your life. And every day…I stayed longer than I was supposed to and saw the real you.”

She rubs her palms against her face, anger turning inward now. “I should’ve asked more. Something was off. And I ignored it.”

“This isn’t on you.”

“Isn’t it?” she fires back. “Because it feels like I gave you access toeverythingwithout realizing it.”

I inhale deeply, grounding myself before saying the part that matters most.

“You stopped being my job,” I tell her. “Long before tonight. Long before I touched you. You became someone I cared about. Someone I chose to stay for when I should’ve walked away.”

She scoffs. “That’s supposed to make this better?”

“No,” I admit. “It’s the truth.”

The room is thick with it now. Everything unsaid pressing in.

“I never meant to lie to you,” I continue. “But telling you too early would’ve put you in danger. And telling you after tonight…” my head droops. “I didn’t wantthismoment to be poisoned by fear.”

She gazes at me. The anger doesn’t disappear, but something else slips in beside it.

Hurt. Confusion. Betrayal tangled with everything we shared.

“So what now?” she asks.

I don’t pretend to have an easy answer.

“Now,” I say, steady and unflinching, “You get the whole truth. Every piece. And you decide if I’m still allowed in your life, or if you want me to walk away.”

I pause, letting the weight of it sit where it belongs.

“But understand this,” I add. “Everything I did was to keep you alive. And everything I feel for you now…was never part of the job.”

She doesn’t respond right away.

And I realize no matter what occurs hereafter. Here is the instant that will decide everything.

I see it happen, the shift.

The anger doesn’t vanish, but it loosens its grip. Her shoulders drop a fraction. Her eyes dull into something heavier.

“I think what hurts the most,” she says, quieter now, “is that I feel like I was used. Like bait.”

The word lands harder than any accusation she’s thrown so far.