EMILIA’S POV

I shouldn’t have asked the question.

The instant the words left my mouth, I saw it—the way his body stilled, the way his shoulders locked like stone, the way the air itself seemed to freeze around him. His eyes darkened, not with rage, but with something heavier. Something old.

Shame. Pain. Memories that still had teeth.

I shifted in my chair, guilt rising thick in my throat. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” I whispered, almost wishing I could snatch the words back.

His gaze flicked to me then, sharp and unflinching, before sliding away. For a moment, I thought he might stay silent...