I breathe more slowly, more consciously.
I feel the weight of the glass in my hand, but I don't grip it like before. Now I hold it… with control. As if that small gesture were enough to remind me that I can pull myself together. That I must, I observe him, Alexander. That man who, just a few minutes ago, disarmed me with words… and now begins to show something else. Something I didn't expect: flaws, mistakes, cracks.
"And yet… it didn't happen," I say, settling into the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
My tone is more steady. More like me.
"What did you do?"
He doesn't dodge the question, doesn't soften it, and that interests me.
"I wanted to open her eyes… the wrong way."
I narrow my eyes slightly.
"How?"
"The hard way."
Silence.
My attention sharpens.
“I spo
