Elaine handed me the letter with an expression I could not quite read, and I took it from her with a small nod of gratitude that felt strangely easier to give than any sharper answer.
It had been a week now, and I still could not understand why she kept acting this way—gentle one moment, guarded the next, careful in a way that made my suspicion sharpen instead of soften. The paper felt warm from her hand when I unfolded it.
I asked, "Elaine, you went to get their letter for me in person?"
Her eyes stayed on me a moment before she answered. "Yes, I did. I had to make sure that the letter reached you safely"
That made me look away at once. "You didn't have to." I never told her to do this for me.
"I have to, Alexander."
"You are trying to be too good to me." Yes, it makes me feel angry at her... or maybe I am angry at myself.
"You don't want me to?"
"No, I don't."
