Sophie wiped her face angrily, embarrassed by her own tears.
“You didn’t think I could care,” she said, not as an accusation but as a fact. “Because you think people like me only care when they want something.”
Damian had no defense that didn’t sound like an excuse.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t have a reason that makes it okay. I let my fear make me stupid.”
Sophie’s shoulders shook. She spoke again, voice thin.
“When I saw you on the floor, it felt like I was fourteen again.”
Damian went still.
Sophie didn’t mean to say it. The moment it left her mouth, her eyes widened. But the truth had already stepped into the room.
“My dad died when I was fourteen,” she said, voice distant, as if she was watching the memory from far away. “Heart attack. I tried to help. I called 911. I tried CPR. I was too small and too scared and…” Her voice broke. “And today, when I saw you, it was the same. I couldn’t do it again.”
Damian felt a sickness spread through him, not physical, but moral.
He had turned her worst memory into a test.
He wanted to rewind time and rip his own plan to pieces.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
“No,” Sophie replied softly. “You didn’t know because you never asked. Because you never wanted to see me too closely.”
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