“No,” he says. “It’s not.”
The space between us tightens, but it doesn’t feel charged anymore.
It feels split.
“You said we do this together,” I say, my voice quieter now.
“We are,” he replies, his tone firm.
“No,” I shake my head, stepping back slightly. “We were.”
His face darkens, something sharper cutting through.
“That’s not fair,” he says.
“Neither is this,” I fire back.
Silence presses in, heavy and suffocating.
“You think I’m choosing against you,” he says, his voice lower now.
“I think you’re not choosing at all,” I reply.
That lands.
“You don’t get to question where I stand,” he says.
“I do when it affects this,” I counter.
“And what exactly do you want me to do?” he asks, his hands spreading slightly in frustration. “Walk in there and burn it down with you?”
“If that’s what it takes,” I say.
“That’s exactly the problem,” he replies.
I stare at him, the weight of it settling in fully now.
“You’re going to hesitate,” I say.
“I’m going to think,” he corrects.
“And people are going to keep disappearing while you do,” I snap.
“And more will if we do this wrong,” he fires back.
The silence that follows doesn’t shift.
It settles.
Final.
“You’re not on my side,” I say.
His expression tightens.
“That’s not true.”
“Then prove it,” I say.
