— I’m waiting.
I didn’t understand what he was waiting for. Or what he wanted. And even if I could imagine it—right now our desires probably didn’t match.
— Waiting for what? — I asked, lowering my gaze.
— For you to break and say it.
His words stunned me. He knew. He knew what I was feeling. And he just sat there calmly, hands folded, waiting for me to fall apart.
I closed my eyes, holding everything inside.
— May I go to my room?
— Go.
The same calm voice. Even. Indifferent—or so controlled there was no difference. He understood what was happening to me—and still let me go. No explanations. No conversation. Nothing.
I walked up the stairs.
Stopped halfway.
No.
I couldn’t do it. Lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, think about this all night—no. If he understood everything, then
