My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to.
Then Liam pulled the chair closer to my bed.
He sat down.
“You don’t have to make your voice bigger,” he said softly. “We’re listening.”
Something inside me gave way.
Not dramatically.
There were no sobs at first.
Just a tear sliding toward my ear as I stared at the ceiling.
For years, I had carefully measured every sentence.
Every expression.
Every sigh.
Living with Ethan had turned ordinary communication into an equation.
What will this cost me?
How will he interpret this?
Will he remember it tonight?
Will he use it next week?
Now my brother was sitting beside me saying I did not have to speak loudly to be heard.
I covered my face with one hand.
Liam gently took hold of my wrist.
“Hey.”
I lowered my hand.
His eyes were wet.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
