Chapter 32: Shattered Lines
The day after the incident, Lina sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, staring at the steam curling up from her untouched cup of tea.
The bruises on her arms had already started to bloom into dark violets and aching blues.
The memory of Klemen's hand on her throat, the way his voice hissed through clenched teeth, still echoed in her mind.
Jonas sat across from her, visibly exhausted. He had barely slept. The guilt gnawed at him more than the bruise on his knuckles or the paperwork the police had left behind.
"They're charging me," he said flatly.
Lina looked up sharply.
"Because you protected me?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Because I didn't stop. I hit him once, and then again.
And again. I broke his nose and cracked his jaw. That's… beyond self-defense. That's assault, Lina."
Her chest tightened. She remembered the look in Jonas's eyes—that wild, furious blaze, the way his fists connected again and again with Klemen's face until the police sirens had snapped him out of it.
"I just—" He exhaled. "I lost control. I saw his hands on you and… it was like something inside me broke."
Lina's fingers tightened around the warm mug.
"He told me he still loved me. That if I didn't drop the charges, I'd ruin his life." Her voice cracked. "And for a moment… I actually considered it."
Jonas moved to her, kneeling in front of the couch. "Lina…"
"I thought maybe, just maybe, I could offer him peace. Closure. He cried. Said he didn't know I was pregnant… and then—" Her throat tightened. "Then he grabbed me. Like I was his to take again."
Jonas's jaw clenched. She placed her hand gently on his cheek.
"I don't regret that you stopped him. But I hate that you're paying the price."
"I'd do it again," he whispered. "Ten times over."
There was a long silence. Then she asked, her voice small, "Why do men like him get second chances… while women like me spend months trying to feel normal again?"
Jonas didn't answer immediately. He just pulled her into his arms.
"Because the world's still learning," he said quietly. "But you… you're teaching it."
She closed her eyes and breathed him in, that scent that had become home—pine and soap and something warm beneath it all.
Jonas rested his forehead against hers. "You don't owe him forgiveness, Lina. Or understanding. You owe yourself peace. And you earned it. The hard way."
For a long time, they sat like that—quiet, connected, healing.
The dogs snored gently at their feet, two warm heartbeats keeping watch in the silence.
Outside, the world moved on. But in that living room, in that moment, everything slowed—just enough for Lina to take one deep breath.
And finally feel safe.