Chapter 177
Evelyn's POV
Julian's eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, they were pained. Conflicted.
"Because what my father did—" He had to stop. Breathe. "He let my mother die, Evelyn. He had the resources to pay the ransom. Had the power to negotiate. To do something. Anything. And he chose—" His voice went rough. "He chose principle over her life. Chose his goddamn moral code over saving his wife."
"I know." I kept my hand on his face. Kept my voice soft. "And that's unforgivable. I understand that. But—" I had to gather my courage. "But do you hate him? Really? Or do you just—" I struggled for the right words. "Or do you just wish he'd made a different choice? Wish he'd been weak enough to compromise his principles for love?"
Something cracked in Julian's expression. Raw and honest and so vulnerable it made my chest ache.
"I don't hate him," he admitted quietly. "I wish I did. It would be easier. But I—" He had to stop. Swallow hard. "I understand why he made the choice he did. Understand that in his position, with his responsibilities, paying terrorist ransoms sets a precedent that gets more people killed. That he was trying to—" His voice broke. "That he was trying to do the right thing even when it cost him everything."
"Then why haven't you talked to him in seven years?"
"Because understanding doesn't make it hurt less." Julian's eyes were wet now. "Because every time I think about calling him, I remember my mother's face in those videos they sent. Remember her begging for her life while my father sat in his office and made the 'tactical' decision to let her die."
I nodded slowly. Understanding crystallizing. "And you're afraid that if you let him back in, if you forgive him or even just—just acknowledge that he was in an impossible position—you're betraying her memory. Saying that what he did was okay."
"Yes." The word came out broken. Honest. "Exactly that."
We lay there in silence for a moment. Both of us dealing with fathers who'd failed us in different ways. Both of us trying to figure out how to build something from the ruins.
"You know what I realized today?" I said finally. "When I was standing in that corridor with Nikolai? When I made the decision to let him come to the wedding?"
Julian's hand came up to cover mine where it rested against his cheek. "What?"
"I realized that love—real love—doesn't respect boundaries." I had to pause. Make sure I was saying this right. "Not in a toxic way. Not in a 'I'm going to violate your privacy and control you' way. But in a—" I struggled for words. "In a 'your pain is my pain' way. In a 'we're building this life together so your wounds are my wounds' way."
I shifted so I could look at him more directly. Ignoring the sharp protest from my ribs.
"If you'd kept your boundaries with me," I continued, "if you'd respected my walls and my armor and my insistence that I didn't need help—we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have anything. Because love—the kind of love we have—it requires tearing down those boundaries. Being willing to invade each other's carefully guarded spaces. To refuse to let each other hide behind walls."
Julian was looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Somewhere between understanding and resistance.
"So what are you saying?" His voice was careful. "That I should call my father? Invite him to the wedding? Pretend the last seven years didn't happen?"
"No." I shook my head. "I'm saying that if I can give Nikolai a chance—the man who literally broke my ribs two days ago, who turned me into a weapon, who stole five years of my life—then maybe—" I had to stop. Gather courage. "Maybe you can consider giving your father a chance too. Not to erase what happened. Not to say it was okay. But to—"
"To acknowledge that he's human." Julian finished quietly. "That he made an impossible choice in an impossible situation. That he's lived with the consequences for years. That he—" His voice caught. "That he lost his wife and his son in one night and has been carrying that weight alone ever since."
"Yes." I kept my hand on his face. Kept my eyes on his. "And maybe—maybe the best way to honor your mother's memory isn't to punish your father forever. Maybe it's to build something. To show that love can survive even the worst trauma. That families can—" I had to stop. Breathe through my own emotion. "That families can rebuild even after they've been shattered."
Julian was quiet for a long moment. I could see him processing. Wrestling with years of pain and anger and guilt. Could see the exact moment when something shifted. When the armor started to crack.
"He's not on the guest list," he said finally. Voice rough. "I didn't—I didn't think he'd want to come. Didn't think I wanted him there."
"And now?"
He closed his eyes. Breathed deep. When he opened them again, they were wet but clear. Decided.
"Now I think—" He had to stop. Compose himself. "I think maybe you're right. That if I'm going to ask you to be vulnerable with Nikolai, I need to be willing to do the same with my father. That love means—" His voice broke. "Means tearing down walls even when it's terrifying."
Relief flooded through me. Warm and bright and so intense it made my eyes sting.