“I don't know which memories are real anymore.”
I took her hand.
“Yours are.”
She looked at me.
“His intentions may have been fake. Your laughter wasn't. Your love wasn't. Your hope wasn't. Nobody gets to steal the truth of what you felt simply because they lied about what they felt.”
She broke down.
This time, she let me hold her.
Jake asked to see her.
She refused.
Then changed her mind three days later.
Not because she wanted answers.
Because she wanted him to hear hers.
The meeting took place through reinforced glass.
Jake looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Hollow-eyed.
He picked up the telephone.
Sophie did the same.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Finally Jake said, “I'm sorry.”
Sophie remained silent.
“I never expected it to go this far.”
“Which part?”
“What?”
“The part where your family beat me? The part where you stole my phone? Or the three years where you pretended to love me?”
