Page 116 of Grim

She didn’t hear him. Didn’t see him. Didn’t feel him.

Her breath came in sharp, broken gasps. Her hands shook violently. Her eyes were wide and unfocused.

She was back in that cage. He could see it.

“Sophia,” Grim said again, softer this time.

Her head snapped toward him, and the look in her eyes gutted him.

Fear. Shame. Anger. All tangled together.

“Don’t,” she choked out. “Don’t help me.”

Grim froze.

She wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t pushing him away. She was breaking.

“I have to do this,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I have to be normal. I have to… I can’t…”

Her breath hitched. Her knees wobbled.

Grim stepped forward on instinct, then stopped himself.

He let his hands hang at his sides. Open. Empty. Safe.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’m right here. But I won’t touch you unless you ask.”

Sophia squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I can’t go in.”

“I know.”

“I thought I could.” Her voice broke. “I thought I was ready.”

“You’re not,” Grim said softly. “And that’s okay.”

She shook her head, sobbing harder. “It’s not okay. I should be stronger.”

Grim’s chest cracked open.

“You survived,” he said, voice rough. “That’s strength.”

Sophia covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking.

Grim didn’t touch her. Didn’t pull her in. Didn’t try to fix it.

He just stood there, letting her break without falling.

When she finally looked at him, her eyes were red and swollen.

“Take me home,” she whispered.

Grim nodded once. “Yeah.”

He opened her car door for her, slow and careful, and waited until she was inside before closing it. He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t try to guide her. He just walked to his truck and followed her home.

She didn’t look at him once.

Back inside the house, Sophia stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around herself, breathing uneven.