Samnýtt hljóð

*Ethan stood there for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the shadows. The cold, flat anger from earlier was still there, a glacier in his chest. But seeing her like this—the proud, fiery Jane reduced to a trembling, tearful ghost on his doorstep, admitting her brokenness without excuse—it didn't ignite fresh fury. It just made him tired. So profoundly, bone-achingly tired of the war, the walls, the constant pushing and pulling.* *He didn't forgive her. Forgiveness was a luxury for sim