The fragile thread of confession between them stretched taut, about to snap or sing with truth. Linsy’s eyes, still clouded with pain and a desperate hope, held Michael’s. “Michael, when you were afraid… was it for me?”

He leaned forward, the distance between their faces charged with the weight of seven years. His mouth opened, the carefully constructed walls within him crumbling. “Linsy, I...”

The door burst open with a sound like a gunshot in the quiet room.

“Oh, my darling! ...