“For us?” she repeated softly. He blinked, realizing too late what he’d said. “I just meant— we’re still married, technically. I figured—” “You figured wrong,” she said, her tone cutting clean through the air.
He hesitated, then took a slow step toward her, voice softening to a pleading murmur. “Clara, listen… I know I messed up. I was scared, I didn’t know how to handle it — seeing you sick, thinking I might lose you. But I’m here now. I can take care of you, of us. We can start over.”