ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond-Chapter 242: Leave

Chapter 241

ROMEO POV

"I want to leave." The words didn’t sound panicked. That was what unsettled me.

They were quiet. Flat. Said with the kind of certainty that comes after panic has burned itself out and left something colder behind.

For a moment, no one moved. Nonna’s hands tightened on the arms of her chair. I felt it without looking, felt the way her body braced, like she was already preparing to shield Katya from whatever came next.

Katya didn’t look at either of us. Her gaze was fixed somewhere past my shoulder, unfocused, as if she were already halfway gone.

Leaving. Not her room. Not away for a bit.

Leave. I didn’t answer immediately.

Silence has weight when you let it sit long enough. It presses. Forces people to fill it with truths they weren’t ready to give. I’d used it that way for years.

But Katya didn’t rush to explain herself. She just breathed, slowly now, unevenly, like each breath had to be chosen on purpose.

Her pulse under my fingers had steadied, but it hadn’t softened. That told me enough. I shifted my hand slightly, easing the pressure without pulling away. "You’re breathing better," I said calmly, shifting the topic.

"That’s good." Her shoulders rose and fell once more. Less violent. Still fragile. I straightened a little, giving her space without retreating completely.

"Stay here with me for a moment," I said. "Just long enough to make sure you’re steady." She swallowed. Didn’t argue. Didn’t agree.

That was a victory, however small. "Katya," I continued, voice low and even, "tell me three things you can see."

Her eyes moved. Not to me. Past me. Nothing came out. "That’s fine," I said after a beat. "Two things you can feel."

Still nothing.

Her fingers flexed once, then curled back into her sleeves like she was afraid of touching the world again.

"One thing you can touch," I said. "Anything."

Her lips parted. Closed again. The absence of response worried me more than the panic had. Panic was loud. This was quiet. This was withdrawal.

Behind me, Nonna leaned forward. "Katya, amore," she said gently. "Can you hear Nonna’s voice?"

Katya flinched—not away, but inward, like the sound had brushed against something sore. "I want to leave," she repeated. Softer this time.

I exhaled slowly through my nose. This wasn’t rebellion. It wasn’t manipulation. It was escape.

I rose to my feet in one smooth movement, careful not to startle her, and took half a step back so I wasn’t towering over her. Power had its place. This wasn’t it.

"Where do you want to go?" I asked. Her brow furrowed faintly, confusion creasing her expression.

The question clearly hadn’t been part of the plan, if she even had one.

"I don’t know," she whispered. "Just... not here."

Not here?! I glanced down the corridor again. Still empty. Still quiet. Still my house.

That was the problem.

Nonna looked at me then, really looked at me, and there was something in her eyes I hadn’t seen directed at me before. Not fear. Not defiance.

Judgment.

"She needs space," Nonna said carefully. "Somewhere she can breathe without feeling watched."

I held her gaze. "She’s not being watched." Nonna didn’t look away. "You know that’s not what I meant."

I did. Katya shifted slightly, as if sitting upright was suddenly too much effort. Instinct flared sharp and immediate, but I kept it leashed. I crouched again, closer this time but still careful.

"You can’t leave the estate right now, Katya ," I finished evenly.

Nonna’s head snapped toward me. "Why?" she demanded, sharpness cutting through her worry. "She just told you she wants to leave."

Katya’s shoulders drew in tighter at the sound of Nonna’s raised voice. She folded further into herself, chin dipping, arms tightening like armor being reforged in real time.

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. "Because she’s not stable enough to make that decision," I said calmly. Precisely. "Not in this moment."

Nonna stiffened. "That’s not your call."

"It is," I replied, just as calmly. "Right now, she’s dissociating. Her breathing only just regulated. She’s confused, overwhelmed, and reacting to something she hasn’t processed yet."

Katya’s fingers clenched harder into the fabric of her sleeves. "She doesn’t even know where she wants to go," I continued, eyes never leaving Nonna. "That’s not clarity. That’s flight."

Nonna’s mouth tightened. "Or it’s instinct," she shot back. "Maybe she knows exactly what she needs and you’re refusing to hear it."

At that, Katya flinched again. I saw it this time—the way her shoulders hitched, the way her head bowed further, like each word spoken over her was another weight added to her spine.

"This," Nonna said suddenly, gesturing toward me, her voice trembling now with restrained fury, "this is why she wants to leave. You are the problem."

The words landed harder than any accusation I’d faced in years. Katya made a small sound then. Not a sob. Not a protest. Just a broken little breath, like the last air slipping out of something already cracked.

She curled inward even more, knees drawing closer, arms locking tight around herself as if she were trying to disappear into her own body.

My jaw tightened—not in anger, but restraint.

"Stop," I said quietly.

Nonna looked at me, incredulous. "Don’t you dare—"

"Stop," I repeated, firmer now, and this time she did. Not because of authority.

Because Katya’s breathing had started to fray again. I turned slightly, angling my body so Katya wasn’t trapped between us.

"Katya," I said, lowering my voice deliberately, grounding it. "No one is forcing you to decide anything right now."

Her eyes stayed down. "You’re not in trouble," I continued. "You’re not being judged. And you’re not being ignored."

Her shoulders trembled once. I glanced back at Nonna. "Arguing over her like she isn’t here helps no one."

Nonna’s expression shifted—hurt flashing across it, followed by guilt. She looked back at Katya immediately. "Tesoro, I didn’t mean..."

Katya shook her head faintly, a reflex more than a response. "I just want it to stop," she whispered. So quietly I almost missed it.

Something in my chest pulled tight. "It will," I said immediately. The certainty in my voice surprised even me. "But not like this."

Katya’s breathing wavered, then steadied again, shallow but no longer splintering. She didn’t look at me when she spoke next.

She turned her head slowly instead, eyes lifting toward Nonna.The movement was small. Careful. Like she was afraid even that might be too much.

"Nonna," she said quietly.

Nonna leaned forward at once. "Yes, tesoro. I’m here."

Katya hesitated, fingers tightening once more in her sleeves before she forced the words out. "Can we... can we go to your room?"

The question wasn’t defiant. It wasn’t demanding. It was a plea wrapped in politeness, like she was asking permission to exist somewhere softer.

That was all. Not leave the estate. Not get away. Just that.

Nonna’s room. She hadn’t asked me. She hadn’t even looked at me.

Something tight and unfamiliar closed around my chest. Fear, not jealousy, maybe a bit but fear, not for her safety—not entirely—but for what the choice meant.

Nonna didn’t answer right away. She looked at Katya the way people do when they already know the answer but still need to confirm it with their eyes.

Then Nonna looked at me. Waiting. I could have stopped it. I could have spoken. Set conditions. Claimed reason, authority, concern.

Instead, I said nothing.

Silence stretched between us, thick and deliberate, and in that silence I understood something I didn’t like, if I spoke now, I would be choosing control over her steadiness.

Katya shifted slightly, as if bracing for refusal. Her shoulders drew inward, breath catching just enough to tell me she was preparing to fold again.

That decided it. I stepped back.

One measured step to the side, clearing the space in front of her. Making room. An invitation without words.

Nonna didn’t hesitate after that. She reached out, steady and sure, her hand closing around Katya’s trembling one.

Katya rose slowly, unsteadily, leaning into Nonna wheelchair the moment she was upright, like her body had already made the choice her mouth hadn’t dared to repeat.

She passed me without looking up. Close enough that I could see the fine tremor still running through her fingers. Close enough to smell her shampoo, faint and familiar.

She didn’t glance at me. Didn’t pause. Didn’t ask if it was okay. And that—more than anything—landed hard.

I stood there as they moved away, watching Nonna guide her down the corridor, Katya’s steps small and careful, her weight leaning instinctively toward the woman who felt safe enough to hold her together.

I didn’t follow. I didn’t call out. I just watched until the corner swallowed them whole. The silence they left behind felt louder than the panic had been.

I told myself this was good. That this was what she needed. Space. Comfort. Distance from whatever had pushed her into that state.

But the truth pressed in anyway, unwelcome and sharp.

She hadn’t chosen to be alone. She’d chosen but not me.

And standing there in my own house, watching the place where she’d disappeared, I realized how little control that choice had left me with and how much it unsettled me that I cared at all.

†*

Well well well

Thanks for reading

This Chapter was written in a haste.