"But you didn't."
"No." My voice cracks. "I didn't."
Sophia is quiet for a moment.
"Marina." Her tone shifts. Careful. Like she's approaching something fragile. "Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Back then. Before you left Chicago." She pauses. "Did something happen between you two?"
I close my eyes tighter.
The tears I've been holding back press against my eyelids.
"No."
"Marina—"
"Nothing happened." My voice is barely a whisper now. "Nothing at all."
And that's the truth.
We fought. We argued. We traded insults like weapons. Every interaction was a battle. Every conversation was a war.
But that was it.
That was all it ever was.
"We were always fighting," I say. "From the moment we met. He threw me over his shoulder like I was cargo. I slapped him across the face. We never stopped after that. You already know all of this."
"But?"
I swallow hard.
"But then I found out he never left the hospital."
Sophia doesn't say anything.
"He sat there for days, Soph. While I was unconscious. While I was fighting for my life. He just... sat there."
"I know."
"And when I woke up and told him to leave, he left." My voice breaks. "He actually left."
"Marina—"
"Do you know how hard that made everything?" The tears spill over now. I can't stop them. "It would have been easier if he'd argued. If he'd refused. If he'd given me a reason to hate him."
"But he didn't."
"No." I wipe my face with the back of my hand. "He just looked at me. And then he walked out. And I've been trying to convince myself I made the right choice ever since."
"Oh, Marina."
Those two words hold everything. Understanding. Sympathy. The kind of love that only comes from someone who's known you since you were five years old.
"What do you need from me?" Sophia asks. "Tell me. I'll do whatever it takes."
