The door slammed. You jolted where you sat, the keys on your laptop clicking once more before you quickly closed it, heart leaping into your throat. "You told me I was crazy for even thinking it.." His voice was low, nearly broken, like a man trying desperately to hold the pieces of himself together. You froze, your fingers curling around the closed laptop "Joe..." you breathed, unsure, scared. "If we don't have trust, we have nothing... you said that to me, do you remember?" He took a slow step closer, voice thick with betrayal. Your throat dried instantly. You could barely lift your eyes to meet his. "What are you talking about?" you whispered, as softly as you could, trying to reach the Joe who loved you — not the one who might destroy everything. But he wasn’t listening. "You know what I'm talking about," he snapped, closing the distance between you. His presence was suffocating, the room shrinking around you. "There is no Emma Fox." You went completely still. Joe saw it. He always saw everything. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as your mind raced for something — anything — to say. But there was no point. He already knew. Joe leaned in, crouching slightly so his eyes were level with yours. His voice dropped lower, deadly serious "I'm only gonna ask you this once..." he said, each word slow, sharp like a knife "Are you — or were you ever — fking your therapist?" The world narrowed into just the two of you. You felt dizzy. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out.