Emmett’s POV
I didn’t sleep. I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to every sound in the house. Ruth had barely said a word all evening.
Her silence wasn’t passive, it was controlled. She hadn’t touched her wine. Her plate stayed mostly full. And every time Marcus spoke, she flinched. It wasn’t obvious, but I saw it. Her body locked up in small ways. She kept her voice level when she answered him, but it didn’t match her eyes. She was holding something back. I’d seen it in people before, especially in myself.
After Marcus went to bed, I stayed in the living room. I didn’t want to crowd her, so I pretended to fall asleep. I closed my eyes but kept my ears open. I thought maybe she’d come talk to me if she needed to. I told myself I wouldn’t push. That didn’t last long. Sleep dragged me under, but only lightly. The sound that woke me wasn’t loud, but it was wrong. Too soft to be something innocent. Too intentional.
I sat up fast. The room was still. The blanket I had over me had fallen to the floor. The couch was empty. The air felt colder than it had before. I stood and moved through the house without calling her name. I didn’t want to startle her, not yet. My instincts had kicked in before my thoughts did.
The kitchen drawer was open, not fully, but enough for me to see. The knife that belonged there was gone. My heart jumped. I didn’t stop to think. I walked fast toward the guest bedroom. The hallway felt too quiet. The door cracked open, I pushed it gently.
She was there, Ruth stood beside the bed. Her body was still, one arm was raised. The knife caught the faint light coming through the curtain, she didn’t hear me come in. I reached out and grabbed her wrist, she didn’t scream or jerk away. She didn’t even flinch, her expression didn’t change. She just turned her head slowly and looked at me. Her eyes were empty, not scared, not angry, just blank.
She didn’t say anything at first. Then, as calm as if I had asked her about the weather, she said, “It’s nothing.”
She didn’t explain. She didn’t struggle. She let go of the knife like it hadn’t meant anything at all and stepped away from the bed. I picked up the knife and placed it on the dresser. I didn’t take my eyes off her.
“I was just checking on him,” she said. Her voice didn’t rise or fall. It was too flat to believe. She turned and left the room like we weren’t in the middle of something heavy and wrong. I followed her, not rushing, but not letting her out of reach either. She moved to the front door and reached for her coat.
“I have to go,” she said. I stepped in front of the door before she could open it. Her eyes met mine, something cracked in her expression. Finally, something slipped.
“I wasn’t going to do it,” she said. Her voice was louder now, more raw, I didn’t move. I couldn’t let her leave like this. She tried to push past me. I caught her arm, not hard, just enough to stop her.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. But her voice wasn’t steady anymore. She shoved me again, weaker this time, and then she dropped. Her knees hit the floor hard. Her hands went to her hair. She bent over, gasping like the air had been pulled from her lungs. She started shaking. Her whole body moved with it.
“I was going to kill him,” she said. “I meant to. I don’t care if it was wrong.” I crouched down slowly, but I didn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say, and she kept going.
“He hurt your sister. He hurt me. He knows things he shouldn’t. He was in my house, Emmett.” Her voice broke again, like saying it out loud did something worse than thinking it. She pressed her hands to her face and choked out the rest.
“I couldn’t let him stay.”
I sat there, knees bent, unable to touch her, unable to comfort her. I didn’t even know if she would let me. The knife had been real. The look in her eyes had been real. And I hadn’t seen it coming soon enough. She didn’t cry, not the way people usually cry. There were no sobs, no wails. Just the sound of someone breaking apart in silence, in pieces, right in front of me.
I looked at her, crouched on the floor in the middle of the hallway, and I didn’t move. My chest felt heavy, my limbs frozen. I didn’t say her name, I didn’t try to stop her anymore. Because I realized I wasn’t sure what she needed from me right now, comfort or distance.
And I wasn’t sure which one I was supposed to give.