Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 52~

~Raelyn~

~July 3rd~

We'd been dancing around this for weeks.

Ever since we got back from Kansas, something in the air between us had shifted. Colby was trying—I saw that. He was gentler, more attentive, watching me with those blue grey eyes like he was terrified I'd disappear if he blinked.

But I was the one who'd disappeared. From myself. From him. From everything.

And today, everything just felt off. He asked if I wanted breakfast—I said I wasn't hungry. He tried to cuddle—I flinched. He kissed my temple, and I didn't lean into it.

He knew something was wrong. Of course he did. I was barely holding it together. But I still didn't talk.

Because what was I supposed to say?

Hey, Colby, your dad had me raped while I was pregnant with your child, and now I can't even look at my body without feeling like it doesn't belong to me anymore?

Yeah. No.

Instead, I waited until he stepped out to take a call and locked myself in the bathroom.

The mirror didn't lie.

My bump was growing—four and a half months in. I ran my fingers over the faint stretch of skin, but my eyes couldn't stop drifting to the scars.

One on my cheek. One on my side. A long, jagged line across my shoulder where Layne had sliced a blade with malicious precision, like I was nothing more than a piece of meat.

My hands. God. My hands.

Still covered in pale nicks—souvenirs from crawling across glass. Trying to escape when there was no escape.

I was completely naked, just staring at my reflection like I could peel myself out of this skin. And I snapped.

Dropped to the tile.

Collapsed like someone cut the strings.

Arms over my knees, my belly a soft barrier pressing against me, I buried my face and sobbed.

Not just tears. Fucking *wailing.*

The kind of sound that echoed off walls and cracked in your throat. Animalistic. Grief-stricken. Wild.

I didn't hear Colby until the door creaked open.

"Raelyn?"

His voice was cautious. Gentle. He didn't want to spook me.

Too late.

"What's wrong?" he asked, kneeling beside me.

I didn't even look up. Just reached for the sweatshirt on the counter and yanked it over my head. No underwear. Nothing underneath. Just raw skin and scars and humiliation wrapped in cotton.

"Raelyn," he tried again, firmer. "Talk to me."

"I said I'm fine," I snapped, voice hoarse.

"You're not. You're crying on the floor naked and shaking—"

"Just drop it, Colby."

His jaw clenched. "I *won't.* Not this time."

I pushed myself to my feet, wobbling slightly, and stormed past him.

"Raelyn—"

"I said drop it!"

I could feel him behind me. I reached the hallway, heart slamming against my ribs, still trembling. His footsteps followed.