“I’m sorry,” I choke out. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s cradling his stomach. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I chant, the words running all together. My hands hover around him, fingers clawing at the air. My voice breaks, but I don’t cry. “I’m sorry.” He lifts his head, reddened eyes meeting mine. He’s panting, lips parted and damp. “I’m sorry,” I rasp.
