All this time he’d been able to endure the agony of her presence only because he’d braced himself with hatred; knowing now the depth of his error, how could he bear to be close to her again? How would he even bear to look upon her face when he no longer possessed the defenses necessary to shield his pathetic heart? He dragged frozen hands down his face, reminding himself to remain composed—that she could still see him. He felt he might combust if he did not decompress, and yet: How was he meant to deal with his roiling mind while she watched him?
