Those words hurt more than I expected because they sounded like things Jeremy had once said to me in smaller, softer ways. Not accusations, exactly. Hints. Sighs.
Little comments that made me try harder.
I thought of the chicken recipe. His mother's paprika. My hands smelling like garlic at midnight.
"I made his lunch because I thought he needed kindness."
Brielle looked at the container and started crying harder. "I thought I was giving him that too."
That was the first moment I truly saw her.
I slid down the elevator wall and sat on the floor. After a second, Brielle sat across from me.
"Did you love him?" I asked.
She nodded once, embarrassed by the truth. "I thought I did."
I looked at the ceiling and breathed through the ache in my chest. "So did I."
The elevator lurched then, and we both grabbed the rails.
Somewhere above us, metal clanged. A few minutes later, the doors opened halfway to a hallway full of fluorescent light, two maintenance workers, and a security guard.
