Dinner With a Stranger
James suggested we go out to dinner “to relax.”
But the moment we sat down, he kept checking his phone.
Every buzz made him flinch.
Every notification made his face pale.
“Expecting an important email?” I asked lightly.
“Oh—no. Nothing.”
Too fast.
Too defensive.
Then he excused himself, phone to his ear, and rushed outside the restaurant.
My heart thundered.
The hair.
The test.
This call.
What was happening?
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When he returned, pretending nothing was wrong, I smiled through the ache in my chest.
But inside, something had cracked.