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Genevieve hesitated at the door, her hand trembling slightly as she inserted the key. The day's victories loomed large in her mind, but she knew stepping through the door might diminish her newfound sense of pride.
With a soft exhale, the lock yielded, the sound echoing in the stillness of the apartment. She stepped inside, hugging herself against the cold that seemed to seep into her bones. Darkness veiled the room, yet Henry's presence was unmistakable, a silent figure waiting in the shadows.
The door closed with a muted click behind her. "Henry?" Her voice was tentative, seeking confirmation in the quiet.
A lamp flickered on, banishing the shadows and revealing Henry by the window, his posture defensive, his expression dark with brewing storms.
"You went behind my back, Genevieve," Henry's voice was strained, barely containing his anger. "After everything we talked about, you still went to the station?"
Genevieve's gaze fell, her fingers instinctively seeking the comfort of her necklace. "Henry, your dad asked for my help," she spoke softly, her voice a stark contrast to the chill of the apartment. "It wasn't about defying you. It mattered, and I thought--"
His interruption was sharp, his tone escalating with each syllable. "You thought what? That I'd be fine? That my feelings don't matter?"
"No, that's not it," she tried to explain, her voice steady but tinged with frustration, desperate for him to understand. "I wanted to help, to contribute. What I did today--it helped people."
"This isn't about doing good, it's about us! About trust!" Henry's voice grew louder, his anger now fully surfacing.
Genevieve's heart raced as his hand lifted, an involuntary flinch coursing through her. Though she knew he wouldn't harm her, the ghost of her past fears lingered, the instinct to escape momentarily overwhelming her.
"I, uh, I'm going to go," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she retreated to the bedroom. Her movements were quick, a bag hastily filled with clothes.
Henry's footsteps echoed behind her. "Gen, wait. We should talk," he said, his voice now softer but still edged with tension.
She shook her head, fighting back tears as she zipped the bag, her hands trembling. "I need space, Henry. Time to think," she pleaded, her voice choked with emotion.
