Ch. 3: What She Didn't Say

The morning came in grey and quiet, the way it always did before everything changed.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen." The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered.

Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to. "You shouldn't have come," he said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to.

She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen." Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to.

"You shouldn't have come," he said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to. Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

Every choice had a price. Sophia had known that for years, and still the knowing never made it easier.

The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to. Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to.

He watched her go and understood, too late, that he had already made his choice.