LEILA
.
.
I knelt there on the floor of his immaculate room, my voice raw from begging, tears still tracking hot paths down my face.
Gerald just stood above me, quiet, watching.
The silence stretched, thick with my desperation and his unspoken thoughts.
I watched his face, searching for any sign, any crack in the constructed facade of control.
And then, it happened.
His gaze softened while the shift in his expression felt so slight and in a more hopeful way for me, just a fraction, a fleeting glimpse of something other than the cold neutrality he usually wore.
His eyes dropped from mine to my tear-streaked face, to the trembling of my shoulders, to the sad, crumpled heap I made on his floor.
He saw my state. Really saw it and I guess something shifted within him.
He let
