I don’t blink.
Don’t breathe.
Don’tmove.
I lower the camera.
Our eyes lock.
His are full of too much.
Pain.
Hope.
A kind of panic I’ve never seen in him before.
I say nothing at first.
Because the truth’s too big for a yes or no.
So I ask a question of my own.
“Would it change anything?”
His jaw clenches.
A thousand things pass across his face—regret, guilt, love, rage.
But no lies.
Never lies.
He whispers, “Everything.”
I flinch like I’ve been struck.
Not from the words.
But from thewayhe says them.
Like a man watching his world tilt. Like a soldier who just realized the mission he’s on is the wrong one.
He steps forward.
I step back.
“Rhea—”
“No.”
I raise a hand. Not dramatic. Not cruel.
Justdone.
“You don’t get to drop that on me like it’s a question in a survey,” I snap. “You don’t get to ask about mychildlike you’re owed anything.”
His eyes widen. “She’smine.”
