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Jason glued the torn photo back together again and again.
The Claire in the picture smiled faintly, but she had never really smiled much.
There was always a cloud between her brows. He wanted to smooth that away.
He had been so intent on making her laugh because her smile was beautiful — beautiful in a way different from Evelyn.
When he learned the truth he thought he should hate me.
But he also felt a flash of confusion — and that tiny confusion made him ashamed, like he had betrayed Evelyn.
He told himself he should hate me until he believed it.
He treated me terribly and pushed me to the edge, even telling me to die.
Claire never got angry; she never argued back.
She accepted everything as if trapped in a world that belonged only to her.
But on the night he was drunk and demanded why it wasn't her who died, he watched something in her eyes go out like a light.
Despair tore at her face.
For the first time she reacted — she said, "Then I'll return her. I'll trade my life for hers. Is that enough?"
Jason tried to chase after her but he was too slow.
He could only watch her slip away. Panic that he would lose her overcame any feigned hatred.
He called and called, searched and searched, running himself ragged.
