My hand for her dream.

4

Adrian’s expression changed the moment he saw her wrist.

The softness disappeared, and something sharp replaced it, something I had never seen directed at me before, not like this, not so openly, not without restraint.

“Selene,” he said quickly as he stepped forward, his hand reaching for her, pulling her gently toward him, his body already shielding hers.

I was pushed aside.

Not roughly, not enough to draw attention, but enough.

Enough for me to feel it.

Enough for me to understand it.

“I’m fine,” Selene said softly, her voice trembling just enough, her fingers curling lightly around his sleeve as she leaned into him, her body small, fragile, like she needed him to hold her together.

“There’s blood,” Adrian replied, his tone tightening as he lifted her wrist carefully, his thumb brushing over the thin cut like it was something serious.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly, her eyes lowering, her voice gentle, “Evelyn didn’t mean it.”

I stood there.

Still.

My fingers trembled slightly at my side, the plate slipping from my grip and settling into the sink with a soft sound that no one paid attention to.

Adrian’s parents had already entered the kitchen.

His mother’s gaze landed on me immediately, sharp and cold.

“What happened?” she asked.

Selene spoke before I could.

“It was an accident,” she said quickly, her voice soft, careful, like she was protecting me, “Evelyn was just washing the plates, and I think I got too close.”

His mother did not look convinced.

Her eyes moved over me slowly, then back to Selene’s wrist.

“Jealousy can make people careless,” she said calmly, but her words landed with weight.

“I’m not—” I started.

“You lost the mentorship,” she continued, cutting me off without even looking at me properly, “and now you lash out at the one who earned it.”

Earned it.

The word settled heavily.

His father’s voice followed, steady and firm.

“You should know your place, Evelyn, some positions were never meant for you, and forcing yourself into them only leads to embarrassment.”

My fingers curled slightly, weak, unsteady, my nails pressing into my palm.

“I didn’t cut her,” I said, my voice quiet but clear.

No one responded to that.

Adrian was still focused on Selene.

“I’m calling a doctor,” he said, his tone firm as he guided her toward the chair, his movements careful, attentive, like every small detail mattered.

Selene shook her head slightly.

“You don’t have to do that, it’s really not serious,” she said, but she did not pull her hand away.

“I’m not taking any chances,” Adrian replied immediately.

I watched him.

Watched the way his brows furrowed, the way his voice softened for her, the way his hand stayed around hers like he could not bear to let go.

I had never seen him like this.

Not for me.

Never for me.

The doctor arrived quickly, and the cut was treated within minutes, small, insignificant, something that did not require this much attention.

But Adrian stayed by her side the entire time.

When it was done, he finally looked at me.

Really looked at me.

And there was no softness left.

“You need to apologize,” he said.

The words hung in the air.

I felt them.

Heavy.

Cold.

“I didn’t do anything,” I replied.

Selene’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table, her expression hesitant, almost uncomfortable.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, her voice gentle, “she didn’t mean it, Adrian, you don’t have to make her apologize.”

Her eyes flickered toward me briefly.

Mockery and triumph so evident. Then she looked away.

“I said apologize,” Adrian repeated, his voice sharper now.

I shook my head slowly.

“No.”

The room went still.

I could feel the shift immediately.

His anger snapped into place.

“You’re really going to stand there and act like this?” he asked, his voice rising slightly, his gaze hard, unforgiving.

“I didn’t cut her,” I said again.

“That’s enough,” he snapped.

His eyes burned into mine, and for the first time, I saw it clearly.

Not irritation.

Not disappointment.

Anger.

Real anger.

“You’ve already ruined enough,” he continued, his voice cold now, each word sharp, “you lost the mentorship because of your own incompetence, and now you’re taking it out on her.”

My breath caught.

“Incompetence?” I repeated.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his tone harsh, “you got exactly what you deserved with your hand, maybe this is what happens when someone tries to reach beyond their limits.”

I went still, Completely.

He looked at me like I was unpleasant.

Like I had disappointed him. Like I had failed him.

“You’re being wicked,” he added, his voice lower now, but no less cruel, “and I won’t tolerate that.”

I stared at him.

At the man I had loved for years.

At the man who had once held my hands so carefully, who had once told me they were precious.

And now he spoke about them like they meant nothing.

Like I meant nothing.

I had never seen him like this.

But he could be like this.

For her.

Only for her.

Before I could react, he stepped forward.

His hand grabbed mine.

My injured hand.

The pressure came suddenly, harsh, unyielding, his fingers wrapping around it tightly without hesitation, without care.

Pain shot through my arm instantly.

My breath broke as my body reacted, my knees weakening under me as the force pulled me down.

“Adrian—” I gasped, my voice shaking as I tried to pull back, but his grip only tightened.

“Apologize,” he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for refusal.

The pain spread through my hand, my fingers trembling violently, my chest rising and falling unevenly as I struggled to steady myself.

No one stopped him.

No one spoke.

I was on my knees.

Because of him.

Because of her.

Tears blurred my vision, hot and uncontrollable, sliding down my face as I clenched my jaw, trying to hold myself together.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, the words tasting bitter in my mouth, my voice barely steady.

Selene looked at me, her expression soft, almost concerned.

“It’s really okay,” she said gently, her voice kind, forgiving, “you don’t have to—”

“I said I’m sorry,” I repeated.

Adrian released my hand.

The moment his grip loosened, I pulled it back to my chest, holding it close as the pain continued to pulse through it, my fingers shaking uncontrollably.

I pushed myself up slowly, my legs unsteady, my breath uneven as I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

The tears did not stop immediately.

But something else did. I looked at him.

Really looked at him,then I spoke quietly.

“This is the last time.”

My voice was soft,but it did not shake.

“The last tear I will ever shed for you.”