She sets the glass on the nightstand. Sits back down in her chair.
The silence stretches between us.
Heavy. Loaded. Full of all the things neither of us is saying.
I should thank her.
I should apologize.
I should explain.
Instead, I just look at her.
She shifts in her chair.
Uncomfortable under my gaze.
"Stop looking at me like that."
I don't stop.
I can't.
Two years of knowing she was alive without actuallyseeingher.
And now she's here.
Right here.
Close enough to touch.
"Dante."
Her voice is sharper now. A warning.
"I said stop."
She reaches over. Flicks on the lamp beside the bed.
Light floods the room.
I blink against the sudden brightness. My eyes water. Adjust.
And then I see her.
Really see her.
She looks thinner than I remember. The softness in her cheeks is gone. Replaced by something harder. Sharper. Her hair is longer. Darker, maybe. Or maybe that's just the light.
But her eyes.
Her eyes are the same.
Blue-green. Fierce. Guarded.
Always ready for the next threat.
I did that to her.
