He absorbed that quietly.
Then he nodded.
“I was wrong.”
Seven years earlier, I might have needed those words.
Now they belonged mostly to him.
I wished him a good afternoon and walked past.
Through the glass walls ahead of me, the city stretched in every direction—offices, rooftops, streets, rooms filled with people deciding who belonged where.
For a long time, I thought rebuilding my life meant becoming impressive enough that someone like Adrian would regret underestimating me.
I had been wrong about that too.
The real change was simpler.
I no longer needed the person who diminished me to witness my worth before it became real.
At the gala, Adrian’s face had changed when my name was announced.
Mine hadn’t.
That was the difference seven years had made.
