When our eyes met, she looked away.
During a break, Paul approached me.
“Clara.”
I kept my distance.
“We need to talk.”
“We don’t.”
“Please. Just five minutes.”
I looked at him.
For a moment, I remembered our wedding day.
The promises.
The photographs.
The way he had held my hand and told me I would never have to face anything alone.
Then I remembered the kitchen floor.
The freezing tiles.
My broken leg.
His words.
You deserved it.
“What could you possibly say that would change anything?” I asked.
Paul rubbed his forehead.
“I was under pressure. You know how my mother is.”
I almost laughed.
Even now, he was blaming his mother.
“You watched her hurt me.”
“I didn’t think it would get that bad.”
“You left me on the floor.”
He looked down.
“I panicked.”
“No, Paul. You made a decision.”
He raised his eyes.
