"Grant." My voice was very soft, almost as soft as the mist settling over the southern night. "Has it ever occurred to you that I never cared about those points?"
His fingers went still on the screen.
"What I wanted was someone who would bring me an umbrella on a rainy day," I said, looking at him as my voice trembled despite how hard I tried to keep it steady. "Someone who would touch my forehead when I had a fever and tell me to get some rest. Someone who would look at me on our seventh anniversary. Just once. Not at that app."
My voice finally broke. "All I wanted was one thing from you. Just one out of the hundred things you were willing to do for Clara."
Grant said nothing.
He stood there like a machine whose code had been ripped out. For the first time, there was an expression o
