29. Maeve
Maeve
The silence on the other side of the bathroom door feels different now.
Heavier. Permanent.
I keep my hand wrapped around the doorknob for another few seconds, staring at the wood grain beneath my fingertips as though if I wait long enough, I'll hear something.
A click. A laugh. One more ridiculous song. Anything. Nothing comes.
The bathroom suddenly feels too small. Too full of everything I just left behind.
I pull the door open and step into the empty guest bedroom, closing it quietly behind me before making my way toward the balcony doors.
The cool night air greets me the second I step outside.
For one brief moment, I think it might be enough. Enough to calm the ache pressing against my chest. Enough to steady the knot growing in my throat.
It isn't.
My legs give out before I even realize they've stopped working.
The wrought-iron chair catches me awkwardly as I sink into it, and then...I break.
A sob tears through me so suddenly I don't recognize the sound as my own. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to stop it.
Trying to breathe. Trying to understand why this hurts so much.
Because it shouldn't. It doesn't make any sense.
I bury my face in my hands as another sob escapes.
Am I crying because I miss my old life?
Because every day I wake up feeling a little less like myself than I did the day before?
Or am I crying because somewhere inside that house...A stranger became my friend?
The thought makes fresh tears spill down my cheeks. I don't even know his name. Not really.
I know the way he teases me. I know he likes impossible questions and answers every simple one in the most complicated way imaginable. I know he remembers how I take my coffee. I know he notices when I'm sad.
The realization steals what little breath I have left.
No one has noticed I was sad in a very long time. Not enough to ask. Not enough to care.
Taibhse did.
The night breeze catches my hair, blowing it across my face, and for one impossible second all I want is my mother.
I want to curl up beside her on the couch with one of her knitted blankets wrapped around my shoulders while she runs her fingers through my hair the way she always did when I was little.
She never needed to ask what was wrong. She somehow always knew.
A fresh ache settles deep in my chest. Would she know now? If she looked at me...Really looked at me...Would she see it?
Or would she smile and tell me that marriage is hard? That the first year is always the hardest? My thoughts drift to my father.
The man who built an empire on loyalty.
On family. On protecting his own.
Does he know? The question slips quietly into the darkness.
Has he noticed the way I choose my words now? The way I apologize before I've even decided if I've done something wrong? The way I flinch every time a door opens unexpectedly?
Or does he only see what I let him see?
The daughter who smiles. The wife trying to adjust. The alliance that strengthened the family.
A tear slides down my cheek.
If he knew...What would he do?
Would he march through the front gates and bring me home?
Or would he tell me what everyone else keeps telling me...That marriage takes time. That love grows. That I simply have to keep trying.
I honestly don't know anymore.
Maybe that's the part that hurts the most.
Because I don't know who I can trust with the truth.
The only person I wanted to tell...Was someone I'd never even met.
I let out a shaky laugh that immediately dissolves into another quiet sob.
"That's pathetic," I whisper to the empty night.
No. Not pathetic.
Just...Lonely.
Eventually the tears slow. The night settles around me again, cool against my damp cheeks.
I sit there until my breathing evens out and the ache in my chest becomes something I can carry instead of something that crushes me.
Then I wipe beneath my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater and tuck my hair behind my ears.
No one is coming. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
The realization doesn't break me this time. It hardens into something quieter. Something that feels dangerously close to acceptance.
I smooth the wrinkles from my shirt before squaring my shoulders toward the house.
Toward my marriage. Toward the life waiting on the other side of those doors.
I made vows. I meant them.
Maybe this is what love looks like after the fairy tales end. Maybe loving someone means giving away every piece of yourself until there's nothing left to lose.
If that's what it takes...Then I'll learn how.
Even if, somewhere along the way...I disappear completely.
****
Three days. Three days without music. Three days without hearing another voice unless it was absolutely necessary. Three days of waking up to silence so complete I'd started talking to myself just to remember what conversation sounded like.
I don't count the days because I want to. I count them because it's the only thing left that still belongs to me.
A knock sounds against the bedroom door. Two sharp raps. "Mrs. Gallagher."
I look up from the novel resting unopened in my lap. "Yes?"
"Mr. Gallagher asked me to let you know he'll be leaving in thirty minutes. You're to accompany him."
For a second I simply stare at the door. "...I'm leaving?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The footsteps disappear before I can ask another question. I don't move. Not immediately.
Leaving. The word feels foreign.
I stand and walk toward the window overlooking the front gardens. The gates. The trees beyond them.
For three days I'd watched the world continue without me. Now...I was going to see it again.
The thought should have made me happy. Instead...It makes my stomach hurt.
Half an hour later I stand in the foyer with my purse clutched against my side.
The silence stretches between us.
Ronan adjusts the cuff of his jacket before looking at me. "You'll ride with me." I nod. "Today's a business dinner." Another nod. "There are a few things we need to discuss before we arrive."
Something in his voice makes my pulse quicken.
"Come."
He leads me toward the garage instead of the front entrance. The heavy door closes behind us with a metallic thud. The sound echoes.
The SUV waits in the center of the garage, polished until I can see distorted reflections in the paint.
The follow vehicle is already gone. Probably waiting outside the gate. Ronan stops beside the driver's door. He doesn't unlock it.
Instead, he turns to face me. "There are new expectations."
I fold my hands together. "I'm listening."
"You'll remain beside me tonight."
"I always do."
"You'll speak when spoken to."
Something inside me stirs. "I already—"
"You'll answer only the person addressing you." I swallow. "If anyone asks questions about the estate..." His eyes settle on mine. "...you'll tell them you're adjusting well." The words land strangely.
"I'm not."
His expression doesn't change. "You will."
Silence. He continues. "You won't mention the changes inside the house."
"I haven't seen anyone to mention them to."
"No." He nods once. "You haven't."
Something about the answer...The certainty of it...Finally cracks something I'd spent three days trying to hold together.
"I'm tired."
His brow furrows almost imperceptibly. "What?"
"I'm tired." The words surprise even me. "I'm tired of apologizing." The garage feels impossibly quiet. "I'm tired of wondering which version of you is coming home every night." His face still doesn't change. "I've spent three days trying to convince myself this is normal."
I laugh once. It sounds broken. "It isn't."
"Maeve."
"No." I shake my head. "My father has never spoken to my mother the way you speak to me." His jaw tightens. "My mother laughs." I feel tears burning behind my eyes. "My mother leaves the house. My mother has friends. My mother..." My voice catches. "...isn't afraid of disappointing her husband."
Something flickers behind Ronan's eyes. Not anger. Fear. "That's enough."
"No." The word comes out stronger than I expect. "If my father knew—"
"He doesn't."
"He would take me home."
Silence. Absolute silence. For one impossible second I think maybe I've gotten through to him.
Then he steps forward. Fast. His hand closes around my upper arm.
Pain shoots through the muscle. "Ronan."
"You're emotional." His grip tightens. "I am trying to protect this marriage."
"You're hurting me."
His eyes don't even flick down to his hand. "You are letting someone fill your head with nonsense."
"I don't even know his name." The words escape before I can stop them.
Ronan goes completely still. "...What?"
My heart drops. No. No no no. "I..."
"What did you just say?"
Panic crashes over me. "I didn't mean—"
His fingers tighten again. Hard enough that I gasp. "I asked you a question."
"I don't know what I said."
"Liar."
Something inside me snaps. Not because he called me a liar. Because for the first time...I realize I'm done trying to convince him otherwise.
I shove him. Hard.
It's enough to make him take one surprised step backward.
For one heartbeat...Neither of us moves. He stares at me as though he doesn't recognize the woman standing in front of him.
Then...Everything changes.
He closes the distance in two strides. One hand catches my shoulders. The other wraps around my throat. Not crushing. Not choking. Holding. Keeping me exactly where he wants me.
"You will not," he says quietly, "ever put your hands on me again." My lungs struggle against the pressure. I claw at his wrist on instinct. "Do you understand?"
I can't answer.
"I asked..." His voice cracks for the first time. "...do you understand?"
I nod. Once. Immediately the pressure eases. He lets go so abruptly I stumble backward against the SUV, dragging in a desperate breath.
He stares at me. Horror flashes across his face. Not because of what he'd done. Because he'd lost control. For the first time...I think it scares him almost as much as it scares me.