Cassian shut the door to his room, but the quiet did nothing for him.
The lights were too bright.
The air felt too tight.
The house ..his house felt wrong.
He loosened his tie, then stopped.
Her face came back to him.
Not her words.
Not her tone.
Her face.
The way she had smiled politely when she said there's nothing.
The way her eyes had looked like they were holding something back something heavy.
The way she had looked tired in a way sickness couldn't explain.
Cassian Vale was not a man who missed signs.
But he had missed hers for months.
He turned away from the bed.
Then, after a beat, he walked back out of the room.
Juliette was half-lying against the pillows when the knock came.
She frowned.
He had just left.
Her body still ached, her head still felt foggy, and yet something in her chest tightened.
"Come in," she said softly.
The door opened.
Cassian stood there, one hand on the frame, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
"I know you said there's nothing," he said quietly.
"But I don't believe you."
Juliette's heart jumped.
She straightened slightly, then winced and sank back.
"I'm tired," she replied.
"That's all."
He didn't move closer.
But his voice lowered.
"You've been tired long before the accident."
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Juliette looked away.
Cassian exhaled slowly, running a hand over his jaw.
"We barely talk," he continued.
"We live in the same house and pass each other like we're avoiding eye contact."
"And when you stopped speaking to me completely, I knew something was wrong."
Her lips pressed together.
"I didn't stop speaking," she said.
"I just… spoke less."
"That's worse," he replied sharply.
She looked at him then.
Really looked.
"You wouldn't notice the difference," she said quietly.
"You were already gone."
The words landed hard.
Cassian stiffened.
"That's not fair."
Juliette laughed once.
Dry.
Bitter.
"You don't get to decide that."
His jaw clenched.
"Then explain it to me," he said, voice rising slightly.
"Because I'm standing here asking you what I did, and you keep pretending it doesn't matter."
Her chest rose and fell.
This was it.
The conversation she had avoided.
The one she had swallowed down every day.
"You want to know?" she asked.
Her voice trembled, then steadied.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes."
She held his gaze.
"I saw you."
Cassian frowned.
"Where?"
"At the boutique."
His eyes flickered.
Juliette didn't miss it.
"You were there," she continued.
"With her."
He straightened.
"That.."
"Don't interrupt me," she snapped suddenly, surprising even herself.
"I've been quiet for weeks. You can listen for five minutes."
Cassian closed his mouth.
She took a breath, her ribs aching.
"I went to the boutique that day same day, i was done buying but i needed to go back because i forgot my purse," she said.
"I didn't know you'd be there. I wasn't looking for you."
"But then I saw you."
Her hands clenched the blanket.
"The way you stood with her.
The way you smiled.
The way you looked… comfortable."
Her voice cracked.
"You never look like that with me."
Cassian took a step forward.
"That woman"
"You looked happy," Juliette cut in.
"And I realized something."
His voice hardened.
"What?"
"That you don't look lonely when you're with other people," she said.
"But you make me feel lonely when I'm with you."
The words echoed.
Cassian stared at her.
"That's not because of her," he said.
"That's because you never tell me what you need."
She laughed again this time louder.
"What I need?"
She shook her head.
"I needed you to see me without me asking."
His tone sharpened.
"You married into my life knowing what it was."
"And you married me knowing I was a person," she shot back.
"Not furniture."
The air crackled.
Cassian paced once, then turned back.
"You think I did something wrong by standing next to another woman?"
"No," she said.
"I think you did something wrong by making me feel like I didn't belong anywhere near you."
His eyes darkened.
"That wasn't my intention."
"But it was the result."
They stared at each other.
This wasn't about the boutique anymore.
This was about mornings without words.
Evenings without warmth.
Meals eaten in silence.
Cassian's voice dropped.
"So you punished me by giving me silent treatment ."
"I protected myself," she said.
"Because every time I tried to exist beside you, I felt like I was intruding."
He inhaled sharply.
"You're my wife."
"On paper," she replied.
"And sometimes not even that."
Something in his expression cracked not fully, but enough.
"I didn't know," he admitted.
"I didn't know you felt this way."
Her eyes burned.
"That's the problem," she whispered
"You didn't know. And you didn't ask."
The room went quiet again.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
Cassian spoke carefully.
"That woman is not what you think."
Juliette looked at him.
"Then what is she?"
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
Enough for her heart to sink.
"Not tonight," he said finally.
"Let me finish this first."
Her lips trembled.
"So I imagine things now."
"No," he said firmly.
"You feel things. And I ignored them."
He stepped closer, stopping at the edge of her bed.
"I never meant to hurt you," he said.
"But I see now that I did."
She swallowed.
"I didn't go quiet because of her," she confessed.
"She just reminded me of what I already knew."
"And that is?"
"That I don't know where I fit in your life," she said softly.
"And I was tired of pretending I did."
Cassian stood there, silent.
The powerful man.
The feared man.
Facing something he had no control over.
"I don't want us to live like strangers," he said finally.
Juliette looked away.
"Then don't treat me like one."
The words hung between them.
Cassian nodded once.
"We're not done talking," he said.
"But for tonight… rest."
He turned toward the door, then paused.
"And Juliette?"
She looked at him.
"I don't like hurting you," he said quietly.
"I just didn't realize I was."
He left.
The door closed.
Juliette leaned back against the pillows, heart pounding, chest aching not just from injury.
She hadn't said everything.
Neither had he.
But the silence was finally broken.
And once broken
It could never return the same way again.