I start to step away—
“Hey.”
I pause.
Just for a second.
Then glance back.
His eyes are on me again.
Less guarded this time.
But still—
Careful.
“You didn’t leave,” he says. “You didn’t go back to America.”
Softer now.
Not pushing.
Not challenging.
Just… stating it.
My chest tightens.
Again.
I don’t answer right away.
Because I don’t have one that doesn’t mean something.
“That was my job,” I say finally.
But it doesn’t land the same this time.
He knows it.
I know it.
Neither of us calls it out.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
But this time—
He doesn’t sound convinced.
I turn before I say something else.
Before I step too far over a line I don’t fully understand yet.
Before this becomes something I can’t control.
But as I move toward the door—
