Chapter 206: The Guilt of Setting Boundaries

*Runze’s POV*

The moment the lock slides into place, the illusion holding me upright completely shatters.

I lean back against the door, my head thumping gently against the panel, and finally let the air rush out of my lungs. My legs feel hollow, unsteady, like the floor beneath me is tilting.

I don’t walk away from the door right away. I just stand there, staring blindly at the white tiles, hearing my breath come in quiet, ragged hitches.

When I finally manage to move, my steps feel heavy. I walk over to the sink, turn on the tap almost absentmindedly, and let the cold water run over my trembling fingers. I splash it onto my face once, twice... hoping the cold will clear the suffocating fog in my head.

I reach for a small towel, press it against my wet face, and then slowly lift my head to look in the mirror.

At first, I’m just trying to calm down. I’m just trying to get my pulse back under control.

Then... the replay starts.

Every word I just spat out at Bael, every shift in his expression.

The way he kept saying *I’m sorry*, his voice stripped of every drop of authority he usually carries. The way his hands trembled as he reached for my wrist, terrified to pull me close, but more terrified to let go. The way his breath caught in his throat. The way he stood in front of me looking so utterly, completely lost.

I close my eyes, gripping the edges of the sink until my knuckles turn white.

...Did I go too far?

The thought slips into my mind before I can stop it. A sudden, cold spike of panic.

Immediately, I argue with myself.

No.

I only told him the truth.

...Didn’t I?

I open my eyes, staring back at my reflection, but all I see is Bael’s face from a few minutes ago. The raw heartbreak, the helpless, pathetic flash of hope when I said I believed him, immediately followed by the sheer devastation when I told him it still hurt.

My fingers press harder into the porcelain.

I know he deserved to hear it... but why do I feel like I’m the one who just committed a crime?

I’ve never taken pleasure in causing someone pain. Least of all Bael. In the months since we got married, I’ve grown used to leaning into his strength, watching him carry the weight of the world without breaking a sweat, trusting him completely to keep everything steady around us. Seeing him undone like this feels entirely wrong.

If I’d known he would look at me like that... would I have said it differently?

A suffocating wave of guilt washes over me.

Not because I regret speaking up. I know I couldn’t keep carrying fifty-eight silent resentments in my chest. But because I know Bael. He rarely lets anyone see him break.

But tonight... I watched it happen with my own eyes.

A quiet, breathless laugh escapes my throat—a bitter, pathetic sound that dies instantly in the small bathroom.

...You’re unbelievable, Runze.

He hurts you... he takes away your choices, manages your life behind your back... and now you’re sitting here feeling sick because you made him look so terrified.

I hate that my heart works like this. I wish I could just stay angry. I wish I could hold onto something clean and simple... something that would make this easier.

Because I love him, and I can’t bring myself to hate him.

He needed to know, I tell myself fiercely, staring at my reflection with a tight chest. If I stayed silent, this would have happened again. He would have kept building a golden cage around me until there was nothing left of who I am. Nothing changes if nobody says anything.

I take a deep breath, but my head is still too noisy. My thoughts are spinning in circles, tearing me in two between the boundary I needed to set and the destruction it left behind.

Realizing that standing here staring at the mirror isn’t helping, I reach out and turn on the shower.

I don’t need to wash. I didn’t even bring fresh clothes into the bathroom with me... I ran in here purely on impulse to escape the suffocating weight of his eyes.

I just need the sound.

The rushing sound of hot water quickly fills the small space, drowning out the silence, drowning out the echo of Bael’s voice. I strip out of my shirt and pants, leaving them in a mess on the floor, and step beneath the hot stream.

The water hits my back and shoulders, heavy and scalding, but I don’t move to grab the soap. I just stand there under the showerhead, my hands resting against the wet tile wall, letting the heat soak into my skin.

I let time slip away. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

Then... through the steady hum of running water... I hear it.

Footsteps.

Faint, muffled steps on the floor outside the door.

I freeze. The water runs down my face, but my breath hitches in my throat.

*Bael.*

For a second, I brace myself expecting to hear a soft knock on the panel, or the door handle to turn, or to hear his voice call my name through the door.

Instead...

Nothing.

Just those few quiet, restless footsteps pacing a short line right outside the threshold. Then complete silence again.

He isn’t trying to force his way in. He’s standing right outside the door, waiting.

The realization makes my chest ache all over again, a deep throb that pulls at my stomach. He’s standing out there like a man who’s been told not to move. Afraid that walking away will look like giving up on me... and even more afraid that knocking on the door will only make me retreat further.

I stay under the stream for a few moments longer, forcing my lungs to expand, trying to gather enough strength to face him.

Because I promised him.

*I’m not going to ignore you.*

I turn off the shower, the sudden silence in the bathroom feels deafening.

I dry myself off quickly with the bath towel, then reach for the navy robe hanging on the back of the door. I tie the belt loosely around my waist, smoothing down the soft fabric.

I take one last deep breath, steadying the knot in my stomach, and reach for the handle.

I turn the lock.

The latch clicks softly as I push the door open and step back into the bedroom.

Bael is standing right there.

He hasn’t moved... He is standing in the dim light near the bathroom doorway, his sleeves still half-rolled, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He looks so lost, so completely stripped of his usual sharp, commanding presence, that he almost doesn’t look like Bael Wuchen at all.

When he hears the door open, his head snaps up, his red-rimmed eyes finding mine instantly.

And looking at him standing there...vulnerable, silent, waiting for my permission just to exist in the same space...my heart twists so violently it takes my breath away.