#Chapter33
What a lousy way to start things off. The obvious choice, but clearly a delicate topic. It only takes me a second to regret the question, but I can't help but be curious about it. There is nothing wrong with Noah on the surface, so I'm assuming she didn't reject him. Maybe he rejected her.
He lets out a nervous laugh and I want to dash off. It's too late. I've already ruined things. /"Well, she actually—she died./"
My body sinks into the ground. What have I done?
I swallow and knot my fingers together in my lap. /"Oh,/" I murmur, /"oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Sorry./"
/"No,/" he brushes it off, /"it's alright. You didn't know. It's been two years, so don't worry too much about it. It's not a fresh wound./"
I nod. /"How old are you?/"
/"I'm twenty. I found her when I was eighteen, and she died a few days after. I didn't really know her if that's why you're asking./"