“Yes.”
His voice is softer now. “Why?”
Because I trusted you.
Because I needed something solid.
Because if I let myself believe you wouldn’t come—
I meet his eyes again.
“Because you don’t miss,” I say instead.
That does something to him.
I see it.
The weight of it.
The responsibility.
“And if I had?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head once. “You didn’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is for me.”
Another pause.
Then—
“I was scared,” I say.
The words come out softer than I expect.
More fragile.
But I don’t take them back.
His expression doesn’t change.
Not outwardly.
But something in him shifts—closer, even without moving.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”
No dismissal.
No correction.
Just—
Understanding.
My chest tightens unexpectedly.
