Ch. 6: Closer

He noticed her before she noticed him, which was usually how the worst trouble began.

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

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

For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. "You shouldn't have come," she said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to. "You shouldn't have come," she said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to.

They did not speak for a long moment. Some silences carry more than words ever could, and this was one of them.

Money could buy a great many things, she 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. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

And somewhere beneath the fear, quiet and stubborn, something like hope began to grow.