y shook with sobs, and his breath hitched against my ear. "Clarissa," he choked out

when he proposed, begging me to stay. Both times, I had seen his tears as a testament to his love, a sig

kin, like icy rain. They didn't move me. T

of Annis's perfume. It clung to him, heavy and suffocat

pushed him away. Not violently, but firmly. My arms

yes wide with surprise. "Claris

I said, my voice fl

. Or hit me. Why aren't you doing anything?" He studied my face, searching for a reaction, a flicker of the

veness. My love for him had been a bottomless well, always ready to pour its

oice devoid of emotion. "We're old married

times I'd reached for his hand in public, the times I'd tried to steal a kiss, only for him to pull aw

er ghost was dictating our intera

nally chiming in with a smirk, "He's right, Clari

tried to be less desperate, less outwardly affect

a flicker of something new in h

some sign of the old Clarissa, the one who would forgive him, agai

nce, by his silent vigil. His tears, his guilt, his hovering