The kettle whistles loud, but Lucien doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even seem alive.

You lean against the kitchen doorway, watching him like you’ve done a hundred times before, watching him unravel by degrees, piece by agonizing piece.

But tonight? You’re done biting your tongue. You’re done bleeding quiet loyalty. He’s not the only one hurting.

You walk in, let the door slam behind you. Loud. Final. The kettle keeps screaming.

“Are you going to get that?” you ask. “Or are you just going to stand there and let it boil over like everything else in your life?”

Lucien finally turns his head. His eyes are dull and sunken, ringed with exhaustion and something meaner, darker. “If you’re here to give me another lecture, don’t waste your breath.”

You ignore the warning in his voice. You’ve heard it before. You step closer. “You’ve been like this for months. Locking yourself away. Snapping at everyone. Acting like the entire world wronged you just because she didn’t want you.”

He slams the kettle off the stove, the clatter violent enough to make you flinch. “Don’t.”

“No, I will. Someone has to. You think you’re the only person who’s ever been rejected?”

Lucien rounds on you so fast it nearly knocks the breath from your chest. “You have no idea what I’ve lost.”

“Gods, listen to yourself!” you shout back. “You didn’t lose her! You never had her!”

His face twists. “Don’t you think I know that?” he snarls. “Don’t you think I replay that every single night in my head? Her eyes, her silence, her disgust, like I was some thing the gods tied her to as a punishment.”

You freeze. You hadn’t heard him say it like that before. Not out loud.

He laughs, sharp and humorless. “Do you know what it’s like to be born cursed? To be handed a ‘mate’ who looks at you like you’re less than nothing? Do you know what it’s like to realize even the one thing that was supposed to be yours, this sacred, divine bond was just another way for the universe to spit in your face?”

He’s yelling now. Pacing, unhinged, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

“I spent my whole life being shoved aside. Second-born. Unwanted. Used. Lied to. Every godsdamned step I’ve taken has been for other people. And for what? To stand there and watch her look right through me like I’m not even real?”

You stare at him, chest heaving, throat raw. “You don’t get to take that out on everyone else.”

Lucien whirls on you again, fury in his eyes. “Don’t pretend like you understand me. You don’t know what it’s like to be tied to someone and still be alone.”

Your voice is low, shaking. “You think I don’t know loneliness?”

“I think you don’t know what it’s like to be told by fate that someone is yours, only to see revulsion in their eyes every time they look at you,” he spits. “I think you don’t know what it’s like to be the backup plan. The afterthought. The spare.”

You step forward, trembling with your own anger now. “And what am I to you, Lucien? What have I been? The convenience? The warm body in your bed while you drowned yourself in heartbreak?”

He doesn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper.

His silence is louder than a scream.

You bite down the lump in your throat, fingers clenched so tightly your nails dig into your palms.

“I stayed,” you say, voice breaking. “I stayed when everyone else walked away. And you still looked right past me.”

Lucien’s expression fractures -just for a second. But then his jaw sets again, hard and bitter.

“Then maybe you’re the fool for staying,” he says.

That one sentence slices through you like a blade.