He struck another match and tossed it into the stove, the paper catching instantly.

A faint warmth began to seep from the iron, smelling of woodsmoke.

Adrian stood up, brushing the soot from his hands.

He looked at me, his face half-hidden in the shadows.

“We’ll stay here until the storm passes,” he said.

“And then what?” I asked.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said. “I always do.”

I looked at the bare floorboards, the realization starting to settle in my chest.

He had always told me that his lies were meant to keep me safe.

He had built a fortress of secrecy, claiming it was a shield against his enemies.

But looking at this empty cabin, I realized how small his world really was.

The secrecy wasn’t just to keep the danger out.

It was to keep me from seeing how fragile he actually was.

He was terrified of being vulnerable, even to his own wife.

“You never trusted me,” I whispered.

Adrian paused, his hand resting on the iron stove.

“I did what I had to do, Claire.”