"Now, I'm going to tell you why!"
Hank Clegg had already singlehandedly opened the door to the Presidential Suite.
This place...
The door from seven years ago.
The memory from seven years ago.
From that moment on, he had kept this place intact.
As his personal memory field, as a lone remaining touch of tenderness.
He had wanted to bring her here for a long time...
Since their reunion at the Clegg Family House.
He had such an impulse.
To bring her here, to this space, this bed, and ask her if she remembered, if she was willing to admit, if she dared to face it.
But with a god-like will, he had managed to suppress these impulses.
He was considerate of her injury, and her untouchable inner frailty.
He had taken on all the pain himself.
But today, all his suppression breached the dam.
Hank Clegg didn't want to endure anymore.
When he was enduring for others, did anyone consider his feelings?
