“You always twist everything,” you snapped, your voice rising despite yourself. “You act like you’re the only one forced into this, like I haven’t been trying!”

Barty scoffed, pacing near the fireplace like a caged animal. “Trying?” he said. “You mean tolerating me. Pretending I’m not just another leash someone else put around your neck.”

You stepped forward. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Maybe because they were true.

“I can’t do this,” you said. “Not like this.”

Before you could think too much, before the weight of what you were doing could catch up with you, you reached for your ring. In one sharp movement, you yanked it off and threw it to the floor.

The moment it hit the ground, Barty’s entire body went still. “…You really did that,” he said quietly, almost in disbelief.

After pacing once, then twice, he suddenly slammed his fist into the wall with a growl.

The wall cracked under the impact.

“I never asked for this marriage!” he shouted, turning on you. His voice was sharp, breaking. “But I gave in. I played the part. I even…”

He gestured toward the ring on the floor. “That meant I tried,” he said. “That meant I let you in, even just a little.”

His eyes burned, but he didn’t look away. Then, slowly, he crouched down and his fingers reached for the ring. He picked it up like it might shatter in his hand.

“Now I remember,” he whispered. “Now I remember why I don’t trust anyone.”

He sat on the floor with his back against the cracked wall, staring at the ring as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded.