After she left, the room felt smaller.
Taylor sat again. The heart monitor kept time.
Maya said, “You don’t need to take this on.”
He looked at her as though she had said something irrational. “You’re my wife.”
“For three more months.”
His jaw shifted. “You really think that sentence means nothing to me now?”
She did not answer, because she did not know how to. Because the problem with men like Taylor was not that they lacked feeling. It was that they were used to feeling things intensely and briefly, then reshaping the world around their comfort.
He rubbed both hands over his face and exhaled. “I know I don’t deserve trust from you. I know I built this whole mess on arrogance. But I’m asking you to let me help.”
“Why?”
He stared at her, almost offended by the question and almost broken by it. “Because I care about you.”
