I waited for her to say something. She sat there, silent, almost too calm, like she was measuring every word she was about to let out. Then finally, slowly, she lifted her head and met my eyes—really met them. Her gaze was steady, heavier than usual, like she was about to say something she'd carried for a long time.
"I've been thinking about this for a while now," she began, her voice steady but edged with something old and tired. "And I felt like I've made you wait far longer than necessary. So I want to talk about it now."
I exhaled quietly, not out of frustration but because I could tell she wasn't saying this out of whim. This wasn't the kind of tone people use when they're bored or just trying to kill time. This was her giving a verdict she'd been chewing on for days.
