She looks at me for a long moment, and then nods, stepping back like she’s already done with me. Like I’m another coward, she won’t waste time fighting.

Which is when I panic.

“I would’ve gone instead,” I blurt, and she turns. “If it were up to me, I would’ve gone to talk to you. I just… I didn’t think you’d look at me the same way afterward.”

A beat of silence.

She tilts her head, brows lifting. “And what way is that?”

I look at her. And I want to laugh at myself, because even now, with everything falling apart, I want to touch her. To say something that makes her laugh again. I want her eyes on me like I matter.

“You know what way,” I say.

She doesn’t smile. But she doesn’t walk away, either.