The wind picked up, fluttering the edges of Ivanka's cloak. The distant campfire crackled softly, as if bearing silent witness to a conversation that should never have happened yet was inevitable.
"I've obeyed all this time," she said again, calmer now, and far more painful. "Because I trusted you. Because I believed I was your choice."
Her eyes shimmered, but no tears fell. "I stood beside you not because of the bond alone. But because I felt loved."
Demian stared at her in silence. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts tangled. He wanted to deny it. To be angry. But Ivanka's words sank too deep.
"But now," Ivanka went on, her voice weakening, "you tell me to obey… what, exactly? A man whose eyes no longer see me?"
She shook her head slowly. "I don't even know who you're choosing anymore."
Silence wrapped around them, crueler than any shout. Demian stood rigid, his fury restrained, leaving only confusion and something that resembled regret, though far too late to be whole.
