“I know.”
“You looked at me an hour ago and said you were still deciding.”
“I was afraid you would think I registered for the wrong reasons.”
“Did you?”
She stopped. There it was: not ready, not clear, not honest. I picked up my bag. Dani stepped closer.
“Do not leave like this.”
The plea hurt. It also angered me.
“Don’t.” I could not keep my voice level. “Do not turn me leaving this room into proof that I do not love you.”
Dani flinched.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It is what you keep doing. You hide the truth, then ask whether I will stay after it becomes public.”
“I was going to tell you tonight.”
“The livestream told me first.”
Evelyn stood several feet away, her expression stripped of its usual polish. Vanessa touched her arm, but neither of them stepped into the conversation.
Dani said, “Amy, please.”
“What was the registration for?”
“To race.”
“That is not an answer.”
“To finish.”
Finishcame out raw. Not run or return honestly—finish, as if the old races could cancel each other.
“And my eighteen miles?” I asked.
“What about them?”
“Did watching me finish make you decide?”
“Partly.”
The same word Evelyn had once used. Partly. The structure collapsed.
“You used my race.”
Dani’s fingers closed around the strap of her gym bag. “No.”
“You used my progress to convince yourself you could fix yours.”
“I was inspired by you.”
“That is not the same as being ready.”
