She nudged him. "If you don't want to see me, just say the word. I'll leave right now."
His face remained cold, but he fell silent.
Sara was his most important person—and he was hers. They had grown up together in the orphanage, two pieces of driftwood clinging to each other in a stormy sea. No relatives, only each other.
Just like the curtains in this room—no one but Sara was allowed to open them.
"I knew you were bluffing. You can't bear to see me go." A triumphant smile crossed her face as she pulled him toward the dining table. "Now, eat."
Simon used to be a chatterbox. Now he finished the entire meal without uttering a single word.
Sara's heart ached.
Starting at sixteen, he'd worked part-time jobs while studying. No childhood. No fun. He sacrificed his youth, even giving up a chance at graduate school, just so Sara could live like a normal girl. He refused to let her feel inferior to her classmates because of money.
The year of the accident, he had finally caught a break. A good job. On the verge of becoming a regular employee.
Then came the explosion at the restaurant where he moonlighted.
He didn't make it out in time.
Massive burns. ICU. Life hanging by a thread.