They didn't fight.
There were no slammed doors.
No raised voices.
No ultimatums.
Just… distance.
Ana stayed.
In the penthouse.
In her routines.
In her silence.
But she moved differently.
She made tea without asking if he wanted any.
Left books open on the couch, but didn't explain them.
Wore the "Become" pendant, but tucked it under her sweater.
Christian noticed it all.
And said nothing.
Because he knew —
Every small thing she didn't say
was louder than anything he could.
🕰️ Three Days Later
He came home early.
No assistant.
No calls.
Just him, holding a single envelope.
He placed it on the kitchen counter where she sat eating quietly.
"It's everything. Every document. Every email. Every version of the file. From day one. Before we met. Before I changed."
He paused.
"No lawyer. No PR filter. Just truth. If you still want it."
She didn't touch the envelope.
Not yet.
So he added:
"You don't have to forgive me. But I won't live in a house where only one of us knows the full story."
And then he walked out of the room.
Not dramatically.
Just… left the truth behind.
🖤 Later That Night
She sat at the table, the envelope in front of her.
She didn't open it.
But knowing it was unlocked, unedited, and hers…
Did something to her chest.
Made it breathe easier.
Because for once, he didn't try to fix it with a kiss, a gift, or a line.
He handed her the whole wound.
And waited to see if she'd choose to bandage it—
or let it scar.
In the darkness of their bedroom, she whispered without facing him:
"This silence isn't punishment."
He answered just as quiet:
"I know.
It's protection."
To be continued…