Ch. 4: Midnight Terms

The city never really slept, and tonight neither did he.

For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. "You shouldn't have come," he 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." "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.

The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. Money could buy a great many things, he had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more.

Outside, the world went on as if nothing had shifted. Inside, everything had.

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

Tomorrow would ask its questions. Tonight, she let herself simply breathe.