Haejin reached up and held her face in both hands. Not dramatic, just there, thumbs resting against her cheeks, tilting her to look at him.
"As long as I'm with you," he said, "I'll do everything I can to make sure you're okay."
He meant it. She could see that he meant every word.
And that was the part that made it worse.
Because he was standing here being completely sincere, making a promise based on information that wasn't real, while she stood in his hands knowing exactly what he didn't know and why. It sat in her chest like something she'd swallowed wrong.
'I'm sorry,' she thought, looking at him. 'I'd tell you if I could.'
She couldn't.
'You're doing the calm voice,' she thought instead, pushing the rest of it down. 'Which means you're a little bit more than fine about it even with the wrong version of the story.'
"I need a drink," she said.
"We can talk—"
"A proper drink. Not this." She named something, a whisky sour, the kind that actually did something.
