It unsettled her, for an apology to be so summarily refused. Niamh had spent all of her life sorry for taking up space, guilty for inconveniencing anyone with her emotions or needs. She supposed she had often felt tempted to apologize for breathing, but no one had ever made her feel so absurd for it. It stung as much as it relieved her, but she should have expected no different from a man so disagreeable to all polite society. Kit, she imagined, had never once apologized for existing exactly as he was.
Why are we the same
