Alexander didn’t answer right away.
He stood there with my hand still in his, as if the truth had weight and momentum and he was bracing for impact. I could feel it in the tension of his fingers—how they tightened, not to restrain me, but to anchor himself.
“Did she ever return?” I asked again.
My voice was steady. My body was not.
“Yes,” he said.
The word was quiet. Heavy.
“When?” I asked.
“A year after she left.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“And you didn’t think that mattered,” I said.
“It mattered,” he replied quickly. “Just not in the way you think.”
I eased my hand free and took a step back. Distance helped me breathe.
“Then tell me how,” I said. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks like a pattern you never finished.”
He nodded once, as if conceding a point he’d argu
