Roman stood there, his chest heaving. Guilt tugged at his chest as he watched her retreat. "Remember, this was your idea," he said aloud as if he hoped it would ease the guilt in his chest. "So you don't need to be upset." Yet even as the words left him, they sounded hollow.
Estelle didn't look back; she kept moving forward, her shoulders stiff, her chest tight, every roll weighed down by the heaviness in her heart. She reached the door and glanced once over her shoulder, catching Roman's gaze lingering on her. She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned the knob.
The door closed softly behind her, cutting him off completely, and she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the rapid drum of her heartbeat. "It was all just for show," she murmured, her voice barely audible, catching in her throat. "So why does it feel like this? Why am I mad at him?"
