I stopped in front of her and stayed silent, letting the tension settle.
"…I see," I said with a small nod, pretending I had just realized she rejected me. "I'm sorry for pushing this on you."
Inside, I didn't feel anything close to heartbreak.
Her rejection or acceptance didn't matter.
The entire story about watching her for years was an act.
A lie to paint myself as harmless.
A lie to keep her guardian from killing me on sight.
In fact, a rejection worked better for me.
If she accepted, the guardian would monitor my behavior every second, at least while I was around her, to make sure I treated her well.
That kind of attention was dangerous.
'Now I should focus on the real reason I approached her.'
"Olivia, I know it's—"
"O-okay," she said suddenly, voice soft.
She lowered her hands, showing a flushed face that looked like she had made some dramatic internal decision.
