The marble countertops felt too cold under your palms, but your body was too hot — adrenaline burning, heart racing, chest heaving. You and Bruce had been arguing for ten straight minutes, voices rising with every word.

“You lied to me, Bruce!”

“I didn’t lie. I protected you.”

“Stop calling it that!” Your voice cracked with the strain. “You think keeping secrets is love?”

He slammed the drawer shut with more force than needed, jaw clenched. “You want the truth? Fine. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this.”

Your heart dropped.

“Oh,” you whispered, the tears rushing faster now. “So I’m hysterical, is that it? I’m just your emotional liability?”

“That’s not what I said—”

“It’s what you meant!” you shouted, stepping closer. “You act like you trust me, but the second things get real, I’m back on the sidelines!”

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, face hard. “You don’t understand the risks—”

“I understand more than you think!”

Your hand flew up — you didn’t mean to. It was an instinct, an overflow, a flash of pain trying to become something else. Your palm landed hard against his chest with a slap that echoed in the stillness that followed.

Bruce didn’t flinch.

You froze, hand still on him, eyes wide.

“I—Bruce—” Your voice broke. “I didn’t mean to—”

He stepped back slowly, hands raised—not in defense, but in space.

“I know,” he said quietly.

And that’s what shattered you.

You crumpled to the floor, sobs shaking your shoulders. The guilt hit like a wave — not for being angry, not for speaking your mind, but for that one loss of control. That one moment where love gave way to pain.

Bruce didn’t leave. He sank down beside you on the cold tile, not touching, just close.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered over and over.

“I’ve been hit by worse,” he said softly, almost trying to smile. “But never by someone I loved.”

You looked up, tears clouding everything. “I don’t know why I did that. I hate that I did that.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice raw. “And I shouldn’t have pushed you away."