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“I couldn’t stay,” Val presses on. “But it was never meant to be permanent. I knew you would find your way out of there. I’d hoped it would be quick.”
“It wasn’t,” Silvaire snaps.
If Val were a better person, he would apologize. The regret is buried in him, lodged between his ribs like the blade of a knife. Silvaire grits her teeth and waits, and Val feels a trickle of blood along the line of his throat.
“I know,” he says.
(On Val, Silvaire, and being stuck. A Tokyo Adrift work.)