“What do you want, Ethan?”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
Those words should have felt satisfying.
Instead, they felt late.
“I know,” I said.
“No,” he replied. “You don’t.”
His voice cracked.
“I let it happen.”
Neither of us spoke.
“I saw it for years,” he continued. “Every joke. Every insult. Every time she treated you like you didn’t matter.”
I looked out the hotel window.
“And you said nothing.”
“Yes.”
