Then she turned her head.
Taylor sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, phone forgotten in one hand. His tie was gone. The top buttons of his shirt were open. His hair looked as if he had pushed both hands through it fifty times. He had probably never looked less like Taylor King in public and more like a man waiting for an answer he might not survive.
He noticed her almost instantly. “Hey.”
His voice broke a little on the single syllable.
Maya swallowed. “You look terrible.”
He gave a laugh that did not deserve the name. “You collapse for one evening and suddenly I’m not photogenic.”
There it was—that thin layer of wit he used when the truth was too close. Maya closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” The word came out too fast. He leaned back, then forward again, unable to settle. “Just… don’t do that.”
She turned her face toward the window. It showed only black glass and her own dim reflection. “You know now.”
He did not answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice had gone quiet in a way she had never heard before.
“A doctor came to talk to me.” He looked down at his hands. “She asked if I knew about your condition.”
Maya waited.
“I didn’t.”
The silence stretched.
Hospital air always seemed too thin for difficult conversations. Too dry. Too exposed. Somewhere down the hall, a cart rolled past, rattling softly. An intercom called for a doctor on another floor. Life continued, indifferent.
Maya said, “I didn’t owe you my medical history.”
“No.” He stared at the floor, then finally looked at her. “You didn’t.”
“You married me for six months because your friend dared you to.”
His face changed at that. She saw the hit land.
“I know what I did,” he said.
“Do you?”
He stood abruptly and crossed to the window, then turned back. Movement always betrayed him more than words. “I know I agreed to something disgusting because I thought everything in the world was a competition and I was bored enough to need a new one. I know I met you thinking it would be simple and that from the first ten minutes, it wasn’t. I know that for the last three months you’ve been living in my home while I pretended not to notice that something was wrong because I was waiting for you to tell me on your terms.” He stopped, breathing hard once through his nose. “And I know that tonight I watched you hit the floor and I have never been that afraid in my life.”
