"I'm not mad about that, David." She suddenly replied. Calm. Too calm.
"You've always been a philanthropist, helping the strays," she said, her voice cutting through him like a chilled blade wrapped in silk.
David blinked. "Nita—"
She tilted her head just slightly, that eerie composure never wavering. "That's what everyone loves most about you, you know? That heart of yours. Always big enough for the world."
He frowned, unsure if that was a compliment or an accusation.
"But then I realized," she continued smoothly, "sometimes you help out of guilt. Not love. Not duty. Just…guilt. Guilt for leaving them behind. Guilt for rising too fast. Guilt for choosing a woman like me when others assumed you'd end up with someone from your world."
David's jaw clenched. "That's not true, Nita."
