(Steven Sy's POV)
The moment Lara's voice cracked across the lab — the moment her accusations hit Michelle like shrapnel — something old and cold in me snapped.
Quietly.
Cleanly.
Without hesitation.
But after the shouting, after the door slammed, after Anthony ran after her, after Michelle whispered she was "fine" even though she clearly wasn't—
There was only one thing I felt:
Anger.
Not the loud kind.
Not the chaotic kind.
The cold, surgical kind that made every breath feel too sharp.
Michelle wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, hands trembling, pretending not to notice the way the entire room stared.
My chest tightened at the sight.
She shouldn't have had to endure that.
Not like that.
Not in public —
not with everyone watching,
not with those words.
She didn't deserve any of it.
I wanted to pull her out of the room.
Shield her.
Hide her.
Lift her out of the mess entirely.
But she straightened her shoulders and whispered, "I'll stay."
