The conversation that followed was nothing like the scenes she had imagined in her younger years. No shouting, no broken plates. Damien’s voice stayed soft, almost bored. “If you leave over something like this, you’re throwing everything away.” He shook his head, as if she were the one making a wild mistake.
For the first time, she heard it differently. His calm didn’t sound steady; it sounded practiced. The room seemed suddenly small, as if her whole life had been slowly folding in around his version of events. Her hands still shook, but beneath the shaking was a thin, surprising line of resolve.