For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his expression. His mouth shifted as if words were pressing against his teeth, straining to be freed. Her heart leapt. She thought, perhaps, at last, he would explain, or even apologize. But then he exhaled through his nose, turned his head slightly, and muttered, “I’m tired. Let me nap.”
His hand twitched as though shooing away an insect. Miriam sat frozen, shame and disappointment colliding inside her. She had offered him a door, and he had closed it with the same quiet finality he always had. She wanted to protest, to press harder, but instead she rose, smoothing the blanket over his knees. He was asleep before she left the room.