Chapter 6

Evelyn POV

"Evelyn, I'm very disappointed in you," Bryce said, running his hand through his perfectly styled hair. "You've embarrassed me in front of the entire building today. I don't even ask anything of you—can't you just let me have some peace?"

I stood perfectly still, feeling like someone had punched me in the stomach. I bit the inside of my cheek hard. No way would I cry in front of him. Not again.

"And now my mother is upset," he continued, his voice rising. "Everything always has to be about you, doesn't it? Your disability, your needs, your feelings." He spat the words like they tasted bitter in his mouth.

Irene placed a hand on Bryce's arm. "Darling, don't waste your energy. She's not worth it." She shot me a venomous glare, her eyes—the same shade of blue as her son's—gleaming with triumph.

Bryce's expression softened as he turned to his mother. "I know, Mom. I'm sorry about all this. Let me take you home."

At the door, he turned back to me with cold eyes.

"Have this place cleaned up before I get back," he ordered. "And don't embarrass me again. If something like this happens one more time, don't expect me to come home at all."

As they headed toward the door, Irene turned back, her eyes cold. "Don't think this is over."

Bryce said nothing, neither defending me nor acknowledging his mother's cruelty. He simply guided her out, giving me one last dismissive glance before the door closed behind them with finality.

The door closed with a soft click that echoed through the apartment. Alone at last, I fell apart. My shoulders slumped as the first sob escaped—a silent, heaving motion that shook my entire body. I sank to the floor, back pressed against the wall, and buried my face in my hands.

God, I was so tired.

I looked around at the mess. Water all over the white carpet. My books thrown everywhere, pages bent and spines cracked. The crystal vase from our wedding, now just sharp pieces catching the afternoon sunlight.

No more.

The thought hit me like a lightning bolt. I wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. Not Bryce's. Not Irene's. Not when I had my baby to think about now.

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and took a deep breath. My hand went to my stomach—still flat, but everything had changed. This wasn't just about me anymore.

A knock at the door made me freeze. My heart jumped into my throat. Had they come back? I scrambled to my feet, frantically wiping away tears with the back of my hand. I couldn't let them see me like this, broken down on the floor.

I crept to the door and looked through the peephole. It wasn't Bryce's blue eyes I saw, but Ryan's green ones, filled with concern.

I let out a shaky breath. Not Bryce. Thank God.

But I couldn't let Ryan see me like this either—red-eyed, face puffy from crying, completely falling apart. I wasn't ready for anyone to see me so... raw. My hand rested on the doorknob, but I couldn't make myself turn it.

"Evelyn?" Ryan's voice came through the door, gentle but clear. "Can I come in? I know you're not okay right now. Can we talk?"

I closed my eyes, steeling myself for a moment, and then opened the door, forcing my face into what I hoped was a casual expression.

"You okay?" Ryan asked immediately, his eyes searching my face.

I tried to smile as I lifted my hands to sign. [I'm okay.]

His eyes never left mine as he shook his head slightly. "Don't do that," he said softly. "Don't pretend you're fine when you're not."

Hearing that, my fake smile crumbled instantly. A tear escaped despite my efforts, sliding down my cheek. Before I could wipe it away, Ryan's thumb gently brushed it aside. His touch was so gentle it made my chest ache.

"Evelyn," he said, his voice low and steady, "if you need to cry, then cry." Without warning, he pulled me into an embrace, his arms strong and secure around me.

I froze for a second, shocked. But then I felt his heartbeat against my cheek, solid and steady, and something inside me just... broke. When was the last time someone had held me like I mattered? Like my pain was real?

I collapsed against him, my body shaking with silent sobs. We just stood there in the doorway, not talking, but saying everything anyway.

When I finally looked up at him, his eyes caught me off guard. Not cold blue like Bryce's, but a warm, deep green that reminded me of forests in summer. Bryce's eyes always made me feel like I was being sized up and found wanting. Ryan's eyes... they just saw me. Really saw me. It scared me and thrilled me at the same time.

"Did he hit you?" he asked quietly, but I could hear the anger underneath.

I shook my head. Bryce's words hurt worse than any slap. The way he looked through me like I was nothing—that cut deeper than bruises ever could.

"Good," Ryan exhaled. "I'm glad someone stopped me when I saw Bryce come in. I was ready to..." He trailed off, jaw tightening. "But enough about that. Evelyn, you really want to keep going like this? We both know you've endured more than enough already."

I stepped back from his embrace, wiping my eyes. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer I'd been running from for too long.

Looking straight into his eyes, I signed clearly: [I've made my decision. I'm filing for divorce.]

Ryan's eyes widened, a spark lighting them from within. "Really? You're finally going to leave him?"

I nodded firmly. [Yes.]

"That's—" he caught himself, trying to hide his obvious relief. "That's good, Evelyn. Will your editor friend help you? Cassidy, right?"

[Yes, Cassidy will help me,] I confirmed.

Ryan's face softened. "If you need anything—anything at all—just let me know. I'm here for you." The way he looked at me made my heart skip a beat.

[Thank you, Ryan, but you know I can't—]

"I know," he interrupted, taking my hands in his. His eyes locked with mine in a way that made it hard to breathe. "And I've told you before, I don't mind waiting. Remember, I'm staying here only because I can't stand to see you suffer, not because I expect anything from you."

I managed a small smile and nodded, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. I looked around at the mess surrounding us, the aftermath of Irene's tantrum.

Ryan followed my gaze. "Now that the crazy lady is gone, let me help you clean this up."

[No, you don't have to—] I began to sign.

"But I want to," he insisted. "We'll get it done faster together, and we can talk. Okay?"

I couldn't say no to the sincerity in his eyes. [Thank you,] I signed simply.

As Ryan carefully gathered the scattered books, I watched him, feeling something I hadn't felt in years. He handled each book with care, straightening bent pages before putting them back on the shelf. He paused when he picked up one with a flower on its cover.

"'It Ends With Us,'" he read, turning the book over in his hands. "I've heard this is really good. Is it yours?" He looked at the book's clearly well-worn spine with curiosity.

I nodded, my hands moving excitedly. [It's my favorite book. I've read it three times.]

"Really?" His eyes lit up with genuine interest. "What do you like about it? I know it's popular, but I've never read it myself."

I hesitated, then pulled out my phone to type a longer message than I could easily sign. I showed him the screen: [It's about a woman who finds the strength to break free from an abusive relationship. She chooses herself even when it's incredibly hard. It helped me realize that sometimes the bravest thing isn't staying—it's leaving.]

Ryan read my words carefully, his expression softening. "That sounds powerful," he said quietly. "Maybe I should read it too."

Our eyes met over the book, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. As he handed the book to me, our fingers brushed against each other. Neither of us pulled away. Instead, Ryan gently wrapped his fingers around mine, holding my hand in his.

I could have pulled away. Should have, maybe. But I didn't. I let his warm hand hold mine because that was what I needed most at this moment.