“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“That is rarely true.”
“I want to take responsibility.”
“You could have done that without asking me to sit here and absorb the confession.”
“You deserved the truth.”
“I deserved it then.”
“Yes.”
Her voice broke slightly. I felt nothing satisfying. No triumph. No pleasure in her discomfort. Only fatigue.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said.
Evelyn looked surprised.
“That’s all?”
“What else would you like?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is not my problem.”
“No.” She nodded. “It isn’t.”
We sat in silence. The dog near the entrance lay down. Evelyn reached for her coffee.
“There’s also the promotion,” she said.
I had almost forgotten. She gave me the name of a regional director at a partner firm who had mentioned an upcoming financial strategy role. The connection was useful. I wrote it down. Evelyn smiled faintly.
“You still carry a notebook.”
“It functions without a battery.”
“Satellites can fail.”
She remembered that too. The old intimacy moved between us like a ghost. Not alive. Still recognizable.
“I can introduce you by email,” she said.
“That would be helpful.”
“I’ll do it today.”
“Thank you.”
She hesitated.
“And Dani.”
My thumb stopped against the cup seam.
