Page 150 of Legacy
God, her voice.
Every time she speaks it’s like sanctity carved straight into my bones.
I used to wake up to that voice.
Now I’d sell my soul just to hear it say my name without flinching.
“Thank you,” I manage, voice rough.
She picks up her fork, her fingers tremble.
Only slightly.
But enough.
She’s nervous because ofme.
The realization lands like a punch to the gut.
I’ve made her nervous.
She takes a bite, and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s actually really good,” she says, like she didn’t expect it to be.
I chuckle. It startles both of us. It’s the first real sound I’ve made that wasn’t wrapped in tension or apology in weeks.
“Glad you think so.”
The silence stretches long between us.
Only the soft clink of silverware on ceramic fills the space.
It’s awkward.
Unavoidably so.
Like the weight of everything we haven’t said is sitting at the table with us.
She sets her fork down.
Her eyes lift to mine.
Dark. Deep. Wounded.
Strong enough to look at me anyway.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
My chest tightens.
“Do what?” I ask, but I already know.
She swallows hard.
“Start over.”
I take a breath, setting my fork down with slow precision.
