Chris closed his eyes and let himself slump deeper into the armchair, his right forearm thrown over his face like a man auditioning for tragedy on a stage.
"Please," he muttered. "Tell me it's not about us."
"It's about us," Dax said without mercy. Chris had asked for the full truth, and Dax wasn't going to hand him a softened version just to make it easier to swallow. "It's better if you read it yourself."
Chris didn't argue. He just lifted his free hand, palm open, like he was accepting a curse.
Dax stepped closer and placed his phone into Chris's hand with the first page already zoomed in.
Chris read in silence.
His eyes moved fast. He didn't ask questions. He didn't make jokes. He just absorbed, line by line, until the last sentence stopped being ink and started being the reality Chris started to hate.
When he finished, he exhaled slowly, like a man testing the edges of his self-control.
"I see," he said at last. He swallowed once. "I understand why you didn't tell me."
