Families sat inside watching movies.
The children were asleep after eating too much sugar.
The adults pretended not to check their cell phones.
I stopped next to the car.
“May I ask you something?”
“Naturally.”
“Why did you call me your fiancée tonight?”
We had been wondering about this ever since we were in the kitchen.
Alexander did not reply immediately.
That bothered me.
Because I knew he chose his words carefully.
“I tried to protect you.”
I looked at him.
“That’s not the whole answer.”
“NO.”
He admitted it.
“I also wanted to make it clear to them that they no longer have control over you.”
I crossed my arms.
“That sounds like something out of a movie.”
“I know.”
“And real life is usually more complicated.”
“Yes.”
He looked towards the house in the distance behind us.
“I should have asked beforehand.”
That surprised me.
“Are you apologizing?”
“Yes.”
“Will Alexander Hayes apologize?”
He smiled slightly.
“Occasionally.”
The moment was insignificant.
Almost commonplace.
But it did play a role.
Because powerful people rarely admitted when they had crossed a line.
“I was angry,” he said.
“Where?”
“Having to witness someone treating a person I respect as if they were invisible.”
I looked down.
The words unsettled me.
Not because I didn’t like listening to them.
Because part of me still didn’t believe I deserved her.
“I’m not used to people defending me.”
His facial expression softened.
“You should be that way, too.”
I looked away.
The sentence was simple.
But it had a heaviness that I was not ready to accept.
When I got home that evening, I expected to sleep.
Instead, I sat on my sofa for almost an hour without turning on the light.
My apartment was small.
A place I chose because I could afford it.
A place where nobody told me what role I was supposed to play.
There were stacks of books on the floor.
A plant near the window that I kept forgetting to water.
A coffee cup that has been sitting on the table for three days.
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