“Yes,” he said flatly. “That you harassed her for years. Spread lies. Humiliated her. Made her feel worthless.” His voice dropped lower, colder. “I know exactly who you are, Aria. And honestly? It’s disgusting.”
Each word sliced deeper than the last. “That’s not true—she’s lying—”
“Is she?” He stepped closer, invading every inch of space. “Because right now, all I see is you losing control. Yelling. Attacking her. While she’s been nothing but polite.”
Tears spilled down my face. “Julian, you have to believe me—”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said sharply. “What I need is for you to go home, think about your behavior, and come back ready to apologize. To Mira. For everything.”
“I won’t—”
“You will.” His grip tightened painfully. “Or this is over. Decide.”
Then he let go like I meant nothing, turned his back, and walked straight back into the apartment.
I stood frozen in the hallway, shaking, everything inside me breaking at once.
**
Two days later, his message arrived.
Wedding dress fitting. Tomorrow, 2 PM. Mira will be there. You two need to sort things out. She’s important to me.