“I’ve been under a lot of pressure,” he said finally. “I needed someone to talk to.” “Someone?” “It’s not what you think,” he snapped, though his voice was too defensive to sound convincing. “I just… I can’t keep pretending everything’s okay. I’m exhausted, Clara. I’m drowning too.” She stared at him. “So you found someone else to save you?”
He rubbed his face, groaning. “I didn’t plan this. You don’t get it — I’ve been watching you fade for months. Every time I walk in here, I lose a little more of you. I can’t—” “Then don’t,” she interrupted quietly. “You don’t have to stay.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Whatever excuse he was reaching for never came.