I hesitate.
Not because I don’t know the answer.
Because I do.
“Doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it,” I say finally. “It’s already in motion.”
“That’s not what I asked,” she presses.
I meet her gaze.
“No,” I say. “I’m not okay with it.”
She doesn’t look surprised.
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Didn’t think you would be.”
I lean back against the console slightly, the cool metal pressing through my shirt.
“There’s no version of this where things go back to normal,” I add.
“Normal wasn’t real,” she replies.
“Maybe not,” I say. “But it was something.”
She studies me for a second, something softer flickering through her expression.
“You can’t go back,” she says.
“No,” I reply.
“To your side,” she adds.
“No,” I repeat.
The word settles heavier this time.
“That bother you?” she asks.
I exhale slowly, the air catching slightly before I let it out.
“Yeah,” I admit. “More than I expected.”
She nods slightly.
“Same,” she says.
I glance at her.
“You had something to go back to?” I ask.
She huffs a breath, something almost like a dry laugh slipping through.
“I had a version of it,” she says. “Turns out it wasn’t real either.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That seems to be a theme.”
The silence that follows isn’t tense.
