They lounge on a blanket in her backyard, dinner a thing of the past and wine still in their hands beneath twinkle lights she's hung. But she's avoided why she asked him to come, avoided the topic of therapy.
Before he can ask, she speaks.
"This is really hard." And she grasps his hand, blowing air through her cheeks.
Trying not to let her nerves affect his, he laces their fingers. "Healing is."
"I know." She struggles to speak. "My homework…"
"Yes?" He ignores the sinking feeling in his gut.
Her eyes clench. "Forgive yourself, forgive him, share something vulnerable."
