For a long time, neither of us said anything.
Her phone lay forgotten beside her, the screen still faintly lit. The soft hum of the city outside slipped through the curtains — distant traffic, and the occasional echo of laughter from somewhere below.
Her eyes didn't move, just stayed on me, patient, steady, almost expectant. Like she'd known this was coming.
I exhaled and rubbed a hand over my face. "I don't even know where to start."
"Then just start somewhere," she said quietly.
Her voice wasn't cold. It wasn't warm either. It was… careful, the kind of tone you use when you're afraid saying too much will make something break.
I sat down at the edge of the bed, facing her. "That night your dad invited us over for dinner…"
Her gaze flickered. "Yeah?"
"I didn't tell you everything that happened."
Her brow arched slightly. "What do you mean?"
