I looked at the clinic’s sliding glass doors and let my imagination sprint toward the worst-case scenarios. What was Liam’s true endgame? Was he trying to force my hand through paperwork and proximity? My hands balled into white-knuckled fists as the panic peaked. “Why are we here, Liam? Why now?” I whispered, searching his profile for a flicker of the man I used to know. But he looked eerily composed—dangerously so—as if this entire nightmare was just another errand. Nothing about this was okay. Every instinct I had was screaming for me to run.
A woman exiting the building caught my eye, her look lingering on our car just a beat too long. My heart leaped into my throat. Was it pity, or did she see the desperation on my face? Beside me, Liam shifted, finally acknowledging my frantic energy. That stranger’s look felt like a spotlight on the fracture between us—the deceit, the coercion, the broken bond. I turned to him, and for a fleeting second, I saw a reflection of my own panic in his eyes. This wasn’t just a disagreement anymore. This was a battle for my autonomy.
I couldn’t endure the interior of that car for another heartbeat; the air felt used up. I threw the door open and stumbled out into the breeze, gasping for air as if I could purge the madness from my lungs. I scanned the parking lot, hunting for anything familiar or safe, but the world looked distorted, like a fever dream. The asphalt felt like it was swaying beneath me. Liam’s actions had shattered my reality, and I was desperately grasping at the shards of my own resolve.
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