HELENA POV
Guilt was a strange thing. It didn’t scream or claw or make a scene the way fear did. It sat low in my chest, heavy and quiet, pressing in every time I looked at Silas laughing with the twins like he had always belonged there. And the worst part was that I couldn’t even tell myself I didn’t deserve it, because somewhere along the way I had stopped acting like a grown woman and started reacting like a scared teenager who ran instead of talking, who judged instead of asking, who made decisions alone and called them protection when really they were fear dressed up as love.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed tight against my chest, pretending to be very invested in the way the dishwasher hummed while Silas poured juice for Sebastian and Stephan with the patience of a saint
