Demian looked at her closely. Something in his expression shifted not anger, but alertness. As though he were standing before someone about to step off a cliff without telling anyone.
"Valerie," he said quietly but firmly, "punishment is not something one asks for lightly."
He lifted his hand, then stopped short of touching her. "And no one speaks like that without a reason."
Valerie closed her eyes.
Her chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to beg him to stop asking. Every word felt like it might drag the secret to the surface a secret that, once revealed, could never be pulled back.
"I just want to be prepared," she whispered. "If one day… I disappoint you."
Demian went still. For the first time since entering, he stepped back half a pace.
"You're not talking about the future," he said slowly. "You're talking about something you already believe is real."
Valerie opened her eyes. Her gaze was empty, yet wet.
