ROBERT.
The moment the words left her mouth,
"Why did you make me quit my job?" I felt something sharp strike my chest.
It wasn't pain exactly, not the kind that made me gasp or stumble, but a sudden, heavy pressure that made my breath hitch for a second longer than it should have. I froze where I stood, my body reacting before my mind could catch up.
Quit her job?
I stared at her, certain I had misheard.
For a brief moment, the room seemed to tilt, as if the question had knocked the balance out of everything I thought I understood. My thoughts scrambled, colliding into one another as I searched her face for some clue, anger, accusation, certainty, anything that would explain what she was talking about.
But all I saw was hurt.
Real, raw hurt.
