Chapter 10: When the Mask Slips
Marcus confronted her on a quiet night, when the house felt too still and the air too thick.
They had just finished dinner. The plates were still on the table when he spoke, his voice calm in a way that made Rosalyn uneasy.
"I went by the café today."
Her heart skipped, but her face did not change. She lifted her glass slowly. "You didn't tell me."
"I wanted to surprise you," he said. "But you weren't there."
"I had the evening off."
Marcus nodded, once, as if he had already expected that answer. He leaned back in his chair, studying her like a puzzle that no longer fit.
"Your manager said you switched shifts," he added.
The words settled between them like a quiet accusation.
Rosalyn stood up and began clearing the table. She did not rush. She did not apologize. She knew better than that.
"I didn't think it was important," she said softly.
Marcus stood too. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Everything about you is important to me," he said. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"
She turned to face him. "Because I don't need permission."
For a moment, his expression cracked. The kindness slipped, just enough for something sharp to show through.
"I worry about you," he said, his voice tighter now.
"I know you do," Rosalyn replied. And she meant it. Worry could still be dangerous.
"Then why does it feel like you're pulling away?" he asked. "Why do I feel like I'm losing you?"
The question was not gentle. It was afraid.
Rosalyn felt a familiar ache in her chest. This was the moment when men always revealed who they truly were.
"You're holding too tight," she said quietly.
The room fell silent.
Marcus's hands curled into fists. "Everything I do is for us," he said. "I protect what's mine."
The word mine made something cold move through her.
"I'm not something to protect," she said. "I'm a person."
He stared at her, eyes dark and searching, as if he were afraid of what she might say next.
"You wouldn't leave me," he said.
It wasn't a question. It was a demand disguised as hope.
Rosalyn stepped closer, her heart steady, her face gentle. She placed her hand over his, feeling the tension beneath his skin. The effect was immediate. His breathing slowed. His shoulders softened.
"I'm here," she said. "But you have to trust me."
Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, like a man holding onto the edge of something deep and dark.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just don't want to be alone again."
Rosalyn wrapped her arms around him, letting him rest against her. She listened to his heartbeat, fast and uneven. He believed this was love. He believed this was closeness.
She knew it was fear.
As Marcus held her tighter, she stared past his shoulder, her eyes empty and awake. This was the truth she understood better than anyone else.
Men were not dangerous when they were strong.
They were dangerous when they were afraid.
And Marcus Hale was terrified.