p. Sophia did

rst. I swept up the broken glass and mopped the water from the floor where the vase had shattered

t now, it was different. It was nestled inside a small, heart-shap

a and

r true feelings. I held it in my hand for a moment, the rough wood cool agains

nd suitcase. Sophia walked in, looking tired and pale.

hat are yo

the coffee table. A flicke

y, forcing a laugh. "It' s s

ated, my voice dev

w he is. Just a st

ooked at her. The lie was so thi

t my eyes. "Wher

, lifting a suit

e started to rise, panic creeping in.

eading for the door.

can' t jus

s the one clinging to me. The one despera

es. As she spoke, a familiar change came over her. The color drained

d you," she

to her mouth as she stumbled back. The same reaction. The same sickness. Even

reach for her, to steady her. My hand came up, b

er caretaker. I couldn' t be the source of

e of our living room, and I felt nothing b

her mouth with the back of her hand. "

with the weight of three years of pain. "I know that my love makes you

s not true!"

of nausea hit her, and she had to turn away, d

had been circling for years. A truth so po

, Sophia,

didn't look back. I heard her call my name, a broken

kept w

were smiling, but I saw it now, clear as day. Her eyes weren't looking at m

en standing

ooking at him

entire love story, was

on. As the doors slid open, I felt my phone

phia, still recovering from her sickness, pu

ychologist she had secretly s

logical reaction is not about disgust. It's a trauma response. It' s called Affe