It's been two months.
They tell me how long it's been every day, a form of torture, I think. Walternate likes rubbing it in my face, the fact that his son won't return for me, who he "loves."
He shows me a window into the other universe, and I see Peter kissing her, me, but not me.
I stay stoic, as tears run down my face. I know that no matter what, they won't break me.
I know now that Peter doesn't care, that he won't return, that he either hasn't noticed or doesn't care.
I'm voting on the second.
