Chapter 13

There's a pregnant pause, a void waiting to be filled with his response. But instead of an answer, Christian diverts the conversation like the professor he is. I like that he doesn't try to gaslight me into starting another conversation but tells me he just can't spill his secrets, yet.

"That's a chapter I'd rather not revisit," he deflects gently, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance. "There are things in life that haunt us, things best left buried in the past."

His evasion is evident, leaving an unspoken ache in the room, a void where answers should have been. Yet, despite the unaddressed question, there's a silent understanding between us—a mutual recognition that some topics are too raw to be probed further.

I respect his evasion, sensing the boundaries he's drawn around that particular part of his history. There's a tacit agreement to let sleeping dogs lie, a quiet acknowledgment that some stories aren't ready to be told.

The atmosphere shifts, the unspoken question still ling