What Protection cost
Adrian's POV He sat on the floor between their beds, coffee cold in his hands, and waited for the right moment. It didn't come. There was no right moment for this confession. Only the necessity of it. Maya lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Elena was at her desk, writing in a notebook, present but not participating, the ghost made flesh and quiet. "I need to tell you," Adrian said. Not to the room. To Maya. "About Elena. About what we were. What we weren't." Maya turned her head. Looked at him. The expression was open, exhausted, ready for whatever came. "Tell me." Adrian set the coffee down. Ran his hands through his hair, the gesture of disorder he had learned from her, from honesty, from finally being seen. "I didn't love her," he said. The words emerged flat, ugly, necessar
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