On the third day, he finally woke up properly. His eyes clearer. His skin less gray.
“You’re still here,” he said, voice rough from disuse.
“Yes.”
“The meeting?”
“Happened without me.” I handed him water. “It’s over.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You lost the company.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.”
“Because of my choice.” I started gathering used bandages, keeping my hands busy. “Don’t make this about you.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was my decision.”
“Still.”
I didn’t respond. Didn’t trust my voice.
“Why did you stay?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know.” I finally looked at him. “I should have left. Should have caught a flight. Should have saved everything. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you like this.”
“We barely know each other.”
“I
