Cracks in his armour

The next morning dawned gray and silent. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my body heavy with fatigue and pain from yesterday's treatment. Every muscle felt bruised, every bone brittle like glass.

But the ache in my chest had nothing to do with cancer.

It was him.

His words from last night played in my mind over and over again.

You are my wife.

You're the most alive thing I've ever known.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears away. I couldn't afford to believe him. Not now. Not after everything.

Because if I let myself hope, and he broke me again… I wouldn't survive it this time.

Maria entered quietly with my breakfast tray. Warm oatmeal, fruit, and mint tea. The smell made me gag, but I forced a few bites down. I needed the strength.

"Mr. Carter is in his office," she said gently. "He asked me to remind you about your exhibition meeting with Mr. Price this afternoon."

My heart fluttered with excitement and nerves. "Thank you, Maria."

She hesitated at the door, turning back to look at me with kind eyes. "He worries for you, ma'am. Even if he doesn't know how to show it right."

I forced a tight smile. "That doesn't change anything."

She nodded silently and left.

Hours later, after a long shower and a soft gray dress, I walked slowly towards Logan's office, my legs still shaky from chemo weakness.

I found him sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie loose around his neck. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he had been running his hands through it repeatedly.

He looked up when I entered, and something softened in his eyes.

"You're up," he said quietly.

"I have a meeting with Daniel at two," I replied, ignoring the warmth his gaze sparked in my chest.

His jaw tightened. "I'll come with you."

I frowned. "That's not necessary."

"I disagree," he said flatly. "He's a snake."

"He's an investor," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "He believes in my work."

"And he wants more than that," Logan growled, standing abruptly and walking around the desk to tower over me. "I saw the way he looked at you at the gallery."

I folded my arms, glaring up at him. "That's not your concern."

His eyes blazed with fury and something darker. "You are my wife."

I flinched at the possessiveness in his tone. "That doesn't give you the right to control me."

Silence crackled between us like a live wire.

Finally, he exhaled shakily, his anger crumbling into exhaustion. "Please," he rasped, his voice breaking. "Just… let me come."

I stared at him, stunned. There was no arrogance in his voice now. No command. Just fear.

"Fine," I said quietly. "But don't embarrass me."

The ride to the gallery was suffocatingly silent. I kept my gaze fixed on the city rushing past the window, refusing to look at him.

When we arrived, Daniel Price was already waiting inside, dressed in a tailored navy suit with an open collar and expensive brown shoes. He looked effortlessly handsome, his smile warm and genuine as he spotted me.

"Madison," he said, stepping forward to kiss my cheek lightly. "You look beautiful."

Logan stiffened beside me, his hand curling into a fist at his side. I ignored him, forcing a smile at Daniel.

"Thank you for meeting me," I said softly.

"Of course," Daniel replied, his eyes twinkling as he gestured for us to sit. "I've been following your work since the exhibition. I think you're exactly what Los Angeles needs right now – raw, authentic female voices."

My chest tightened with excitement. "That's… that's incredible."

"I want to offer you a solo exhibition at our downtown gallery," he continued. "Full creative control. We'll handle all logistics. You just bring your art."

I felt tears sting my eyes. "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes," he chuckled. "We'd be honoured."

Before I could respond, Logan's cold voice cut through the moment.

"She's not strong enough for travel."

Daniel blinked, startled. "Excuse me?"

"She just started intensive chemotherapy," Logan continued, his tone like ice. "She won't be flying anywhere."

I turned to him, my body shaking with rage. "Logan. Stop."

He ignored me, his eyes locked on Daniel with thinly veiled hostility. "Her health comes first. This conversation is over."

Daniel frowned, glancing between us. "Madison… is this true?"

I swallowed hard, tears blurring my vision. "Yes. I… I just started treatment. But I'll be okay. I want this."

Logan's hand shot out, gripping mine tightly. "No."

I ripped my hand away, standing abruptly. "You don't get to decide what I do with my life!"

He stood too, towering over me, his eyes burning with rage and fear. "I won't watch you destroy yourself chasing a damn dream."

My voice trembled as I whispered, "That dream is all I have left."

Silence fell over the room. Daniel cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Perhaps we can revisit this in a few months," he said gently. "Your health is most important, Madison."

I forced a trembling smile. "Thank you for understanding."

As he walked us to the door, his eyes lingered on mine, filled with warmth and sadness.

"You're stronger than you think," he whispered.

The ride home was silent. Logan's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. I sat beside him, staring out the window, my tears falling silently.

Finally, as we pulled into the penthouse garage, I spoke.

"You can't keep doing this," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "You can't keep suffocating me just because you're scared."

His chest heaved as he turned to me, his eyes blazing with desperation.

"I'm not scared of losing you," he rasped. "I'm terrified of what I'll become if I do."

My breath caught in my throat. "That's not love, Logan. That's possession."

He flinched as if I'd slapped him, his eyes filling with pain.

"You're right," he whispered brokenly. "But it's the only way I know how to keep you."

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. "Then you never really had me at all."

That night, I locked my bedroom door for the first time in years. I lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to his muffled voice on the phone in the living room, barking orders to his assistants about cancelled meetings and closed deals.

He was losing control.

And for the first time, I realised… maybe that was exactly what he needed

But as I closed my eyes, exhaustion dragging me into darkness, a single terrifying thought echoed in my mind:

If he finally learns how to love me…

Will it be too late?