The Shadow of Separation and Revealed Vigil
"Mm..." she admitted hoarsely. "I couldn’t help it. I’d drive to that corner near your office, park where I could see your building’s exit. Watching your car... it calmed me. I’d leave just before you got off work." Her voice faded, thick with shame. So that was it—the dressing up, the red dress, the early returns with baking smells—all to reassure herself against childhood ghosts.
A Watchful Peace and Heavy Understanding
Not betrayal, but trauma seeking solace. Silence fell again, broken only by her muffled cries. I leaned against the cool window. All my suspicions about the red dress now felt foolish and trivial. The truth was suffocating—not romance, but a wound buried deep. "It’s over, A-Wen. All over," he murmured firmly, soothingly. He clasped her cold hand tighter.
A Promise’s Weight and Homeward Steps
"I’m here. I promise—no more dead phones. Updates before and after flights. Never again will you suffer like this..." She nodded into his chest, body relaxing like a safe-harbored boat. The garage door lowered, sealing out the damp. We stepped from the car, footsteps echoing softly. She stayed glued to him. His pace was slow—head injury?—but he supported her steadily. He slid the key into the front door lock. A soft click.
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