Camelia’s POV

The silence after my words wasn’t relief. It was a knife, sharp and heavy, waiting to cut one of us open.

Barry didn’t turn. He just stood there, his back to me, shoulders rising and falling like he was holding the whole night on them. The quiet between us grew louder than shouting, stretching until I couldn’t bear it anymore.

“You won’t even answer,” I said, my voice breaking halfway.

He finally moved, but not the way I wanted. He reached for the pack of cigarettes he kept tucked in the drawer by the window, lit one with a flick, and let the smoke curl around him like...