Me, After You: Sekar
I said, suppressing a smile that was nearly spilling over.
"Clearly." She finally sank back into the sofa, accepting the cup he brought her minutes later, face still half-stunned but melting.
She sipped slowly, watching him arrange soup bowls on the dining table, then looked me dead in the eye.
"Okay," she said, low enough for only me. "Now I understand why your energy feels different, Sekar."
"Different how?"
Sary smiled — the genuine one, the one that never makes it to television.
"Lighter," she whispered, squeezing my shoulder. "You look lighter and happier."