Chapter 26: The Edge of Something

I should be happy that she didn't need me anymore. Instead, it just hurt like hell.

Elias

It was a quiet Saturday morning.

Liana made toast. Elias brewed coffee.

They didn't talk much—just the usual, soft-footed rhythm of two people who shared a space long enough to not need words. 

The sun came in from the east-facing windows, catching the curve of her cheek as she reached for the jam.

That's when his phone rang.

He checked the screen.

Scott.

He answered without hesitation.

"You're in town?" A pause. Then a small huff of amusement. "Sure. See you later, Scott."

Liana didn't look up. But she heard it.

Scott. The name hung like a thread in the air.

Elias slipped his phone into his pocket and returned to his coffee, avoiding her eyes. 

He hadn't seen Scott in months. Maybe longer. 

She was convenient. No strings. 

A phase he didn't regret—but never thought about.

And lately… he'd been getting strange.

Too careful. Too coiled. Too close.

A drink wouldn't hurt. He needed the outlet.

"I'm going out tonight," he said casually. "You gonna be fine by yourself?"

Liana nodded. "Okay."

That was it.

Until the doorbell rang at 3:17 p.m.

Elias glanced at the clock, then toward Liana—half-curled on the couch, watching some documentary with the volume low.

He opened the door.

Scott.

Dark lipstick. Crop top. Tight jeans. Smug smile.

She leaned in before he could speak. "Hey, handsome. Thought I'd surprise you."

He blinked. "We said tonight. At the bar."

She laughed. "Yeah, yeah, but I got off work early. Figured—why not come by?"

Her hand slid up his chest, and she leaned in.

"Thought maybe we could get started early."

Her lips were inches from his when he caught her wrist. Firm. Controlled.

"Not here," he said.

"Why?" Her brows lifted. "You—"

That's when she saw Liana.

The girl on the couch.

The one frozen in place, eyes wide, clearly in shock.

Scott's gaze narrowed. Her tone changed.

"Well. Who's this cute little thing?"

Liana stood. Too fast. Her legs shaky. Her throat tight.

She didn't answer. Didn't look at Elias.

Just walked quickly—too quickly—down the hall and shut her bedroom door.

She sat on the bed, arms wrapped around herself.

The woman at the door was beautiful.

Her lipstick matched her nails. 

Her heels were higher than anything Liana had ever owned. 

And her shirt—God, her chest was practically falling out of it.

She tried to steady her breath.

But her thoughts spiraled.

Who was she? Why was she at our house? Why did she try to kiss him?

And worse—

Why did it hurt?

It shouldn't.

Elias wasn't hers.

He never was.

He's a grown man. Of course he dates. Of course he's had women.

What kind of idiot am I?

She bit her lip hard, until the sting grounded her.

A knock came at the door.

"Liana?"

His voice. Quiet.

Too quiet.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't answer.

Not right away.

She took three long breaths. Felt the air stretch her ribs.

Then opened the door.

Her eyes weren't red enough to cry.

But they were red enough to break him.

"I think I should move out," she said.

Elias stared. Like he'd heard her wrong.

"What?"

"I've been thinking about it," she lied. "I'm an adult. I can take care of myself."

His expression darkened. "You want to move out?"

"I think it's time."

"You think you can just—what—get an apartment? Pay rent? Live all by yourself? You think you're ready for that?"

She flinched.

He saw it. Hated himself for saying it.

His jaw locked. Hands curled. 

He swallowed whatever else wanted to come out.

Then she looked up.

Maybe it's the first time she's ever been angry, or at least close to.

"You're not my dad. You can't tell me what to do."

"I know I'm not your dad. I never wanted to be."

She took a deep breathe. 

"I've been working," she said. "Online teaching. For a few months now."

Silence.

It hit him like a slap.

She'd been working?

And she hadn't told him?

He didn't even know where to begin.

When had that shift happened?

When had she started turning to someone else for advice?

When had she decided he didn't need to know?

Of course—she had no obligation.

But still.

Still.

He felt something split—quiet and bitter—underneath his ribs.

That night, neither of them slept.

Liana lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Elias sat in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand he never drank from.

He wanted to drink, really. 

But he needed to stay sober, at least when he's with her. 

They didn't speak.

Didn't knock.

And in the quiet between them—

Something changed.

Maybe not broken.

But not whole anymore.