Ch. 10: The Letter

There were things Nina had learned never to say aloud, and most of them were about she.

The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

"You shouldn't have come," she said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Nina said. "I'm asking you to listen."

She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. Nina crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way she was watching without seeming to. For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all.

The truth, when it finally came, was smaller and sharper than she had imagined.

For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Nina said. "I'm asking you to listen."

Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

She did not sleep that night. There was too much to lose, and far too much to want.