Marissa looked away.
I continued:
“And I helped build that.”
“I’m not blaming only you.”
“That folder is as much about me as it is about you.”
She stared at the papers.
Then asked:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
That answer was harder.
“Because I liked being the one who fixed everything.”
She looked up.
I said:
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“But underneath that, I think I also wanted to be the person who gave you independence.”
Her mouth twisted.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you’re arrogant.”
Despite herself, she almost smiled.
Then the hurt returned.
“You were going to solve my dependence on you by secretly designing the solution yourself.”
“Yes.”
“That is insane.”
“Yes.”
We sat there.
Finally Marissa asked:
“Who is Dr. Lillian Hart?”
I looked at the email she was holding.
“She taught you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“You had her for second-year technical drafting.”
Marissa frowned.
“I had a Hart.”
“Exactly.”
“She remembers you.”
Her expression changed.
“You spoke to her?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Twice.”
“Evan.”
“I know.”
“She pulled your old portfolio from archived records.”
Marissa sat slowly.
“What?”
“She said you were one of the strongest technical students in the group.”
Her eyes filled before she could stop them.
That was the moment the argument changed.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
I said:
“She works at Ridgehaven Institute now.”
Marissa stared at the folder.
“Can I talk to her?”
“Yes.”
“But not today.”
She looked up.
“Why?”
“Because this cannot become another thing I arrange and drive you through.”
“If you want to contact her, her information is there.”
“You call.”
“You schedule.”
“You decide.”
Marissa gave me a strange look.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“What if I don’t want to go back?”
“Then don’t.”
“What if I never want to work in design?”
“Then don’t.”
“The point was never that you owe me a career.”
“The point was that you should have choices that do not depend on my paycheck.”
She looked at me for a long time.
Then whispered:
“I really thought you were preparing to leave me.”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“I left you first.”
“Yes.”
Neither of us tried to soften that.
Marissa did not come home that day.
