ETAN
He could have taken her anger—understood it, let it buffet him. He could have understood jealousy, would have reassured her from it. But this… this uncertainty? Her eyes that said I love you, but I don't want you to touch me? The recoil in her body when he pulled her close? It broke him open like a ripe melon. Fear shot through him like jagged lightning.
He clung to her, begging.
"Please, Ayleth. Please. Know me. Remember me. I am everything you thought I was. This was a poor decision—the wrong one. It is not a measure of my love for you!"
"No, its not," she whispered. He wanted to feel relieved, but she didn't relax under his touch. "But it is a measure of what you believe me capable of. How you view yourself in my life. That you think you should leave me in the dark while you appeared to seek another? Etan… I was physically ill."
