Ch. 4: Midnight Terms

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

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen." "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen." There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

"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.

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. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

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

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."