Chapter Text
Feyre paced back and forth in the sitting room of the River House, her hands clenching and unclenching in fists at her sides. The room was quiet, too quiet, as if the very walls were holding their breath. Rhysand stood by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of anguish and determination.
"Feyre," Rhys began, his voice gentle yet firm, "I did it to protect you. I didn't want you to worry about something that might not even happen."
Feyre whirled on him, her eyes blazing with fury. "Protect me? Protect me? You lied to me, Rhys! You kept the most crucial information from me. How could you possibly think that was protecting me?"
Rhysand took a step forward, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture. "I didn’t lie. I withheld the truth because I thought—"
"You thought what? That I couldn’t handle it?" Feyre interrupted, her voice rising. "That I wasn’t strong enough to face it? I am not some fragile doll you can shield from the world’s harsh realities!"
"No, Feyre, that’s not it," Rhys pleaded, his own voice beginning to edge with desperation. "I know how strong you are. I just—"
"Then what?" Feyre's voice cracked, a mix of anger and hurt. "What was your plan, Rhys? To let me go through the pregnancy blissfully unaware that it could kill me and our child? That it could kill you? What kind of twisted logic is that?"
Rhysand’s jaw clenched, his violet eyes darkening. "I wanted to find a solution first. I didn’t want you to be burdened with that fear, not when you were already dealing with so much."
Feyre’s laughter was harsh, devoid of any humour. "Burdened with fear? Oh, believe me, Rhys, I’ve had my share of fear. But do you know what’s worse? Being betrayed by the person I trust the most."
Rhys took a deep breath, his voice steadier now, though filled with sorrow. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to protect our family."
"And you didn’t think I had a right to know? To be a part of that decision? To fight for our family alongside you?" Feyre’s eyes shone with unshed tears. "You decided for me, Rhys. You took away my choice. I thought you weren’t like Tamlin but you sure are acting like him!"
He froze. She just compared her to Tamlin. Rhysand stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly. "I’m sorry, Feyre. I never meant to hurt you. I was afraid, too. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of facing that possibility."
Feyre shook her head, tears finally spilling over. "I can’t believe you, Rhys. You of all people should understand how much I value my autonomy, my right to make my own choices. After everything we’ve been through, how could you think this was okay?"
He reached out, but Feyre stepped back, her face a mask of pain and betrayal. "Don’t," she whispered. "Just don’t."
"Feyre, please," Rhysand’s voice was breaking. "Let’s talk about this. We can find a way to make it right."
Feyre looked at him, her heart aching with a myriad of emotions. "I don’t know if we can. Trust is everything, Rhys. And right now, I don’t know if I can trust you."
Rhysand’s shoulders slumped, the weight of her words hitting him like a physical blow. "I will earn your trust back, Feyre. No matter what it takes."
Feyre turned away, her voice barely audible. "You shouldn’t have to earn it back. You should never have lost it in the first place."
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the echoes of their pain. Rhysand watched as Feyre walked to the door, her steps hesitant but resolute. She paused, her hand on the handle, without looking back. "I need some time, Rhys. Time to think, to process this."
Rhysand nodded, though she couldn’t see it. "Take all the time you need, Feyre. I’ll be here, waiting."
Feyre opened the door and stepped out, the sound of it closing behind her resonating through the house like a final, sorrowful note.
And Rhysand was left standing alone, the flames of the fireplace casting long shadows on the walls, wondering how he could mend the rift he had so unintentionally created.