“I intended to,” I say.
The admission lands heavier than anticipated, and her expression shifts—not dramatically, but enough that her focus sharpens.
“And then?” she asks.
“And then,” I continue, my voice tightening despite my control, “you spoke.”
The words settle between us, clear and unavoidable.
She blinks once, slow. “You’re saying I stopped you.”
“I am saying you interrupted a sequence that had already progressed beyond reconsideration.”
“That’s a fancy way of saying I got in your way.”
“It is an accurate way of describing it.”
She lets out a small breath that almost becomes a laugh. “That’s… not great.”
I feel irritation spike again.
“You are not in a position to evaluate?—”
“You were going to escalate,” she cuts in, more firmly now. “Not just correct. Not just stop him. You were going to go all the way.”
I step forward, this time closing the distance enough that she has to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact.
“You presume too much,” I say.
Her voice drops—not quieter, but more focused. “You would have destroyed yourself.”
The words land like impact, not because of volume but because of placement.
“Not just him,” she continues, steady despite the proximity and the pressure I am deliberately applying. “You.”
Something inside me snaps tight, anger surfacing cleanly and immediately—something I can act on, something I can control.
My hand lifts.
Not fully.
Not striking.
But enough that the motion exists, enough that the space shifts, enough that any other person would already be pulling back, flinching, breaking eye contact, collapsing into the expected response.
She doesn’t.
Her breath catches—there it is, human, real—but she does not move, does not step back, does not lower her gaze.
She waits.
“Careful,” I say, the word lower than intended, edged with something that is not entirely threat and not entirely warning.
“I am,” she replies just as quietly. “That’s why I said it.”
My hand remains suspended for a fraction longer than it should, and then I lower it—not as a decision, but as a continuation of one I have already made.
I step back.
