Lilian had been smiling, her hand looped through Morrison's arm, her eyes glowing with warmth.
But the moment his words landed, that smile froze—sweetness turning to disbelief.
Her mind replayed his sentence again, and piece by piece, her smile shattered.
Along with it, the color drained from her face.
Her hand slipped from his arm, and she instinctively stepped back, biting down hard on her lip.
In the span of a single breath, her heart plunged from heaven to hell.
One second ago, she had been looking forward to celebrating his birthday.
The next, she was being abandoned.
She was grateful, in a strange way, for the lessons her mother had drilled into her since childhood: No matter how bad it gets, don't cry, don't scream, don't lose control.
If it's already bad, tears will only make people look down on you.
They'll strip away whatever dignity you have left.
So even as her eyes brimmed with tears, she forced them back.
