In the silent room, Maeve Lane and Henry Hughes sat facing each other.
Noise from outside came in, as complicated as the current state of Henry Hughes's mind.
"How long has it been?"
The question came out of nowhere, but Maeve instantly understood what he meant. She habitually tugged at the corner of her mouth and said, "Not long, maybe the stress has been a bit much lately."
The disbelief was written all over Henry Hughes's face, "That's impossible. If it was just stress, how could you have..."
How could you lose your composure so much.
Maeve Lane was always organized, never rushed or flustered. If it weren't for her body being completely out of control, how could she start crying suddenly on the basketball court.
It was the first time he'd seen Maeve Lane cry, and his heart ached to the point of numbness.
Maeve sat up and leaned against the white wall, her tone calm, "You're the one asking me this question, but when I answer, you don't believe me."
