Ch. 4: Midnight Terms

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

"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. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Nina said. "I'm asking you to listen."

Nina crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to. Nina 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. Nina 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. 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 thought of all the versions of herself she might have been, and wondered which one he saw.

For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. Nina crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to. For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all.