Her fingers slowly moved to feel the softness of his brows before trailing down to feel his eyelashes on her fingertips.
"Confronting you is easy," she murmured, hoping to get a response, but knowing she wouldn't be getting one. "But I gravely doubt your fear would let you tell me anything." Her lips weakly curled, looking at his closed eyes and feeling his even breathing fanning gently her face.
She paused as she stared at him, taking in the calmness, he held on his face —devoid of the fear she had spotted in her demeanour, every time she asked about the possibility of the past they shared.
For once, she feared, it was his anger —that's keeping him away from telling her the truth. But given how careful he had always been around her, she realized, he can't even stay mad at her for seconds, how could he ever bear to give her such cruel punishment?
If there could be something stopping him, it has to be something grave … something major.
