"What is this?"
I watched his hand reach to flip the first page, and the sting behind my eyes deepened. A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Call it your compensation to me."
A flicker of guilt crossed his face. Even he knew he'd gone too far.
He opened to the first page. Patrick was always careful; no matter how rushed, he'd at least skim the contents.
But then his phone rang. The name on the screen burned into my eyes like a brand.
Sweetheart June.
June Fox. The woman who had stolen eighteen years of my life. Who tormented me the moment I was brought back. Who had now killed my child.
Patrick knew everything I'd suffered. There was a time he'd despised June Fox too.
And now he had her saved as Sweetheart.
How absurd.
I let out a cold laugh. Eight years of love, reduced to a punchline.
Patrick answered immediately, his voice softening without him even realizing it.
A whiny, coquettish voice poured through the speaker.
"Patrick, I want boba from that place in Southvale. Come get it with me!"
He stood without a second of hesitation, already heading for the door.
"Serena, I'll be back in a bit."
I reached out and caught his wrist. My fingertips were ice. My voice was flat.
"June Fox pushed me down a flight of stairs and killed our baby. You signing a little compensation on her behalf isn't unreasonable, is it?"
His brow furrowed. Displeasure flooded his eyes in an instant.
"I told you, June didn't do it on purpose. She had terrible cramps that day. She lost her footing and bumped into you. She was so scared she cried."
"Stop making everything into such a big deal."
Lost her footing.
Three little words, weightless as air.
I laughed. Laughed until my eyes blurred with tears.
I had been writhing in a pool of blood, screaming in agony, and he was wiping June Fox's tears.
I had been on the operating table, hovering between life and death, and he was rubbing June Fox's stomach through the night.
I stared into his eyes, searching for even a trace of guilt. Of love.
Patrick shifted under my gaze. He searched my face too, looking for the old grievances, the hysteria he was used to.
But all he found was emptiness. A silence that had nothing left to give.
"Just sign. Once you do, I'm gone. I won't keep you from your boba date."
I pressed the pen into his hand.