“How much did it cost you?” I ask.
She doesn’t hesitate.
“Everything.”
I turn away, pressing a hand to my face.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
Years.
Years of anger.
Years of believing she had looked at me and seen something broken.
“I left you,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Because I thought you didn’t choose me.”
She says nothing.
I turn back toward her.
“You chose me over your own life.”
Her eyes meet mine.
“I chose you over the system.”
Silence settles between us.
Heavy.
Unbearable.
“I was wrong,” I say quietly.
The words are small.
Too small for years of damage.
But they’re the truth.
“I don’t know how to undo what I did.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
And then the worst realization hits me.
I didn’t just lose years with her.
I made her carry this alone.
“I will never doubt your loyalty again.”
She shakes her head gently.
