“Hey,” she says softly.
Her thumb moves slightly against my skin, a small unconscious gesture meant to soothe.
The kindness in her voice makes everything worse.
Because I don’t deserve it.
Because she came here expecting someone brave.
And she got me instead.
My stomach twists violently.
A warning.
“I don’t feel so good,” I admit.
Her hand tightens around mine.
Worry replaces irritation instantly.
Her entire focus shifts from the date to me, from possibility to damage control.
“Okay,” she says calmly. “Okay. We’ll get you home.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She stands.
I try to follow.
The floor disagrees.
She catches me immediately.
“I’ve got you,” she says firmly.
Her voice has changed.
Less hopeful.
More protective.
And beneath it, something else.
Disappointment.
She pays the bill before I can protest.
She carries more of my weight than she should have to, her arm steady around me, her body braced against mine with quiet determination.
Outside, the cool air hits my face.
I breathe deeply.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.