She crossed her legs with elegance and forced a gentle smile, watching him waiting for a reaction that didn't come.
A few seconds passed, she cleared her throat softly, then leaned in a little, her voice delicate.
"So… won't you say something?" she asked.
Her tone was coated in something that tried to sound light—maybe warmth, maybe guilt—but Jerry didn't even look up.
"I mean," she went on, folding her hands on the table, "I came all the way here, I cancelled everything."
Still silence.
"I thought maybe… just maybe, you'd say thank you," she added, her voice sharp now with subtle disappointment.
"Or at least something. Anything."
Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
"But you're just sitting there," she said bitterly.
"As if none of this matters."
She tilted her head again, her tone rising.
"As if I didn't make any effort to be here. As if I didn't sacrifice anything. Jerry, are you really this self-centered now?"
Still, Jerry didn't lift his eyes, not until she finished.
