A gasp rippled through the audience. Elara’s hand, still holding the wooden shard, trembled. She looked at the stage manager, who was frantically signaling from the wings. She looked at Leo, who was grinning like a madman. Then she looked at Julian.
“Again,” he snapped. “From ‘You always leave before the dawn.’”
Julian looked at Elara. Her lipstick was smudged, her eyes were red, and she had never looked more like home.
“No,” Elara said, stopping mid-scene. “She wouldn’t just watch. She’d pick up a shard. She’d cut him with it. Metaphorically, but… physically, too. She’s not a victim.”
The air crackled. He took a step closer. “And you ran from the reflection.”