broken like me

Chapter 2

Feyre opens her eyes, and her first instinct is panic—she's not at the house, which means Tamlin is probably out of his mind with "worry", and liable to be pure rage whenever he next sees her.

It hits her, then—she left him.

She stumbles out of the room, trying not to dwell on the long t-shirt she's wearing not being hers, and finds a familiar scene: Mor, sprawled across the couch, paperwork in her lap and The Walking Deadplaying, and Rhys, standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, trying to watch the show while whisking something.

"Hi."

They both jump when she speaks, voice raspy.

"Feyre! I didn't even hear you come in," Mor smiles softly, but Rhys watches her carefully—as if he knows something about it is off.

(As if he knows that it's no coincidence they didn't hear her approach—she's mastered the art of silently creeping through the house, of walking close to furniture and other weighted things where the floorboards won't creak, staying on the balls of her feet, holding her arms out far enough for the sleeves not to swish.)

"I—thank you. So much. For—for coming, I mean."

"Always."

She jerks when the reply comes from Rhys, instead of Mor, as she'd expect—but there's no hint of sarcasm or judgment in his eyes. Only the promise.

"And you don't have to talk about it—now or ever," Mor tells her soothingly. "But we do need to know—do we need to go pick up the rest of your things? We can call Amren, Cass, and Azriel to come back us up." She says it casually, but it's clear she means for protection—she knows. Knows the threat of violence from Tamiln is a very real possibility.

"I—" Feyre swallows, unsure how to explain that she owns nothing in this world but the painting she'd folded and stuffed into her purse. "No. There's nothing of mine at Tamlin's house."

"Okay! Even better—that means a shopping trip is in our future. Now sit down, today is strictly dedicated to watching Disney movies."

And they do—everything from Lilo and Stitchto Tangledto Meet the Robinsons, without delving into the hard things or leaving the couch except to go to the bathroom.

/

A few days later they're halfway through Beauty and the Beastafter Mor finishes her work, when Mor passes out, head on her shoulder.

She'd expected the movie to be difficult to watch—she and Tamlin had always joked it was the story of their relationship, had dressed up as Belle and Beast the first Halloween they were together. (Back when things were...good.)

The thing is...watching it now? She doesn't see him in the Beast. The way he'd treated Lucien wasn't like Lumiere, he'd never tried to learn about her interests, never offered her her freedom—that was never him.

(He's been Gaston all along.)

What she'd wanted had never mattered—she'd been intended to mold herself to fit his plans, the life he decided they would have. She was supposed to be grateful that he'd made her life "better".

He'd never intended to rescue her from her old life; he just knew she had no other options.

The realization crashes through her, and the more she thinks about it—the more she looks at their relationship without the hero lens—the more it makes sense, the more she wishes she could go back in time and beg herself to see the cage forming around her that no one saw.