Jade Fern Grove You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I

Mahler led her to a natural stone entryway, one that might have impressed her once, but Wylla no longer noticed such things. The gaze she swept over the arch was inscrutable, and would have remained on the stone if not for the steps Mahler took toward her then. Her heart thumped in her chest at the pain she found in his voice, but ultimately, she recoiled from his approach.

You had a choice, she coolly reminded him, and you made yours, and apparently lied to my face in the process. I'm not here for you. As far as Wylla was concerned or aware, there was nothing left to salvage here. Even if there was, so much damage had been done that she could see no way to surmount it besides Mahler groveling and working to make it up to her for weeks on end, and that was certainly never going to happen.

She kept her eyes trained on something distant, unwilling to look at him and acknowledge whatever emotion might play across his stony face; she had begged him to come with her, promised she would do better by him, and that had not been enough, and he had shattered her heart with his decision. How dare he say such a thing and step toward her now, as though the choice had not been his to make.