Jean’s back hit the marble sink, her legs stiff, her breath stuck sowhere between her lungs and throat. Her wide eyes never left Tyler as he stepped out of the shadows.
The sa eyes. The sa predator’s smile. But darker... drunker.
"Don’t even think about escaping, Jean..."
His voice was low, deadly calm. But she didn’t care. Her fight instinct kicked in.
She dashed for the door.
But to her dismay she didn’t get far.
SLAM.
The door shut violently.
He was faster. He always had been.
Jean’s scream never made it past her lips. His hand clamped over her mouth, pressing her back against the wall.
"Jean... Jean... Jean..."
He said her na like a chant. Like a lullaby. As if the years hadn’t passed. As if she still belonged to him.
She squird, but he was too close. He leaned in, eyes closing for a mont as he inhaled her scent, deeply, sinfully.
"God, I missed that," he whispered. "You sll just like I rember. Maybe sweeter."
She whimpered, eyes brimming with panic.
"Calling for help, baby?" His voice was hoarse, tinged with amusent. "Is he standing outside? Your husband?"
A sick grin curved his lips. "He is, isn’t he?"
Jean’s head shook violently.
"I wonder what kind of look he’d have... if he caught us together in here?"
"Please..." she managed to whisper against his palm, but the sound was muffled.
Tyler leaned in closer, breath hot against her cheek.
"Relax, Jean. I just want to have a conversation, okay? That’s all."
She didn’t believe him, but she nodded.
Slowly, his hand slid away from her mouth.
Her lungs pulled in a sharp gasp of air.
"You look good," he said, his eyes trailing down her trembling body. "But he doesn’t know, does he?"
Jean stiffened.
"Logan." He said the na like it was a joke. "He doesn’t know the truth. What we did. What we had."
Her lips trembled.
"You think he’d still look at you the sa once he finds out what kind of broken little toy you really are?"
Jean’s breath caught.
"You really think he’d want you if he knew how you used to beg ? How you used to scream my na? How you..."
"Stop!" she choked, tears threatening to spill.
But Tyler just chuckled and leaned in again.
"Face it, Jean. Logan doesn’t love you. He loves the lie you’ve built around yourself. You tell him what I did? He’ll walk. They always do."
His words beca noise.
Static.
Her blood roared in her ears as she stared at the monster in front of her, the man whose voice used to feel like gravity but now scraped like broken glass down her spine.
"You only rember the past because it hurt you," Tyler whispered, his tone drenched in false empathy. "But people change, Jean. I have changed."
She didn’t speak. Her lips remained parted, breath shallow.
"I know you’re with Logan now. I saw the pictures, the headlines... the loving husband, the glowing wife..." His jaw clenched briefly, rage flickering. "But I don’t care how far you’ve gone with him. I’m still willing to take you back. I still want you."
Jean blinked.
Each word felt like it chipped away at the resolve she had worked so hard to rebuild. But still, she didn’t react.
Not until he said it.
"I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with keeping our baby..."
Her entire world cracked.
A sharp breath hissed out of her mouth as her knees trembled. The room spun. Her throat tightened.
"W-What...?"
Tyler watched her, his expression unreadable. His voice softened... manipulative, rehearsed.
"Jean, you were going to turn in. You’d planned it. Told the police and the doctors. Said I forced myself on you." He took a step forward, watching her fall apart. "I had no other choice. They would’ve destroyed . So I had to... I had to be a part of the decision. Of destroying our baby."
A sound broke in her chest.
A cracked sob.
Her hand flew to her stomach instinctively, as if trying to protect sothing that was no longer there.
She had buried those mories. Or tried to.
But his words brought it all flooding back.
The screaming. The pleading. The sterile clinic. Her wrists held down by her own mother.
And him... Standing there, signing the damn papers with a calm face and cruel eyes.
"You’re lying..." Jean whispered, but her voice was hollow, distant... like it belonged to soone else. "Because of you... my parents locked up for months!"
Tyler’s head tilted.
"I’m not. I loved you in my own way, Jean. You just wouldn’t listen. You still don’t."
He reached out, fingers grazing her arm.
Jean flinched like she’d been burned.
"Don’t touch !" she finally snapped, the crack in her voice sharp as glass. "Don’t say his na. Don’t talk about my baby. Don’t pretend like you were a victim too!"
Her voice echoed off the marble walls.
And outside, beyond the thick bathroom door... Logan stirred.
Logan stood patiently outside the restroom, one hand in his pocket, the other scrolling through his phone.
But then... sothing felt off.
Too quiet. Too long. Too still.
He was about to knock when the door flung open.
Jean stumbled out, breath ragged, her eyes wide... haunted.
Logan straightened instantly.
"Jean?" he said, stepping forward, arms half raised in instinct, in concern. But she didn’t speak. She just walked, more like floated, straight into his chest like a moth desperate for warmth.
She wanted to fall into his arms.
To feel his hands on her back. To bury herself in the comfort of soone who made her feel safe again.
But...
"What is he doing here?"
His voice sliced through the mont like a blade.
Jean froze.
She was inches away from lting into him... but his tone... sharp, furious, protective... held her in place.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Behind her, Tyler erged from the restroom, the ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips like poison.
"Relax, Logan," Tyler drawled, adjusting his cuffs like he had every right to be there. "We were just talking. Isn’t that right, Jean?"
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