Her voice came out low and steady. “Julian.”
Nothing.
She stepped closer. “I know.”
Still nothing.
“I saw the video.”
Julian didn’t flinch.
Then—
He blinked.
Slow. Controlled. Purposeful.
She stared. Waiting.
He blinked again, this time faster. His eyes moved—barely—toward hers. Then away. A bead of sweat formed on his temple.
Lina stepped back. “So it’s true,” she whispered. “You’ve been pretending all this time. Why?”
Silence.
Long, unbearable silence.
Then Julian’s chest moved—different this time. A stifled sob, or maybe a breath gathering weight.
Slowly, agonizingly, he sat up. Just as he had in the video.
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. His lips moved, dry and cracked. “I can explain.”
The voice was hoarse. Croaky. Underused.
Lina’s legs wobbled. “You can explain?”
“I didn’t mean… for it to go this far,” he rasped.
She stared, stunned beyond fury. “TWENTY-THREE YEARS, Julian! I gave up everything! I buried myself alive for you!”
He held up a hand, trembling. “It started as a mistake… but then it became a trap.”
Lina shook her head, clutching her chest. “What kind of mistake lasts two decades?”