She made a sharp sound of frustration, one that was almost a sob.

“It’s not fair if you’re allowed impulses but I have to think ahead and predict how things will hurt you.” She swallowed hard, pausing for a moment to collect herself. “You know, I understand why you’re upset, but what am I supposed to make of this when you’ve already admitted to spending so much time trying to push me away? Will you always be looking for a reason?”

Johan didn’t answer.

Just end this now, he thought. Tell her you don’t care and that this is over.

But that was a lie—he could feel the anxiety at the thought of losing her pressing at his chest, squeezing. And today at least, he would not lie to Nya, or to himself. She’d been lied to her entire life. Her father had used love against her and Johan could do the same, quite easily. Manipulation was his job. He could tell her that she had misunderstood the way he held her, the look in his eye, and the emotion in his kisses. He could tell her he didn’t actually love her. And she would believe him, eventually, because he could make people believe anything. But he wouldn’t do that to her, even if he paid for it later. And he wouldn’t do it to himself, because he deserved honesty, too. Just this once.

“I pushed you away because my interest in you was dangerous,” he forced the words out. “Love comes with loss, and I didn’t want to lose anyone ever again. I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, but I don’t know how not to be scared that I’ll lose you. I don’t know how not to be consumed by that fear. I was only just managing with Lukas and I messed that up, too.”

She walked up to him, and her expression was so distraught that he felt it all through his body, the pain he was causing her.

“You like being the conductor, making sure each instrument in the orchestra surrounding you plays just so in order to protect your emotions. I’m not your instrument, Phoko, just as you aren’t my weapon. I can’t have my happiness dependent on your fears. I will never live like that again.”

She’s leaving.

He reached for her through a haze of panic. “Look. Let’s just—”

Nya’s phone chimed then, a snippet of an upbeat pop song, and he glanced at it. “Is it me, interrupting me?” he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

Maybe he could turn this around. He would just pretend that everything would be all right, and then it would be. He could pave over this hurt, inconsequential compared to most. He could ignore his fears. If this was the despair he’d been waiting on, it wasn’t so bad.

Nya had picked up her phone and was speaking quietly in Thesotho. Her expression had already been tense, but it went slack as tears slipped down her cheeks. Johan went to her and pulled her into his lap. Even if his feelings were hurt, even if they were in the middle of this strange argument, he wouldn’t let her cry alone.

She leaned against him and he could feel her shaking. “Okay. Okay. I will. Yes, Nkhono.”

She hung up and accepted the tissue he’d reached over and grabbed from the bedside table.

“My father has been moved to the prison hospital,” she said. “He really is ill, it seems. They’re worried he won’t make it.”

Johan rubbed her shoulders. “What will you do?”

“I should go to him,” she said.

“Do you want to?” The thought of her leaving before they could finish their discussion made his chest go tight, selfish as it was.

“No. And yes. But I can’t live with the regret of what would happen if I don’t.”

He nodded, forced himself to loosen his hold on her as she stood.

Nya started walking toward the door to her room and then paused, a shuddering tremble going through her. When she held out her hand, he stared at her, then slowly held out his own. The thin silver band she dropped into his palm was still warm.

Her expression was so close to crumpling, but she lifted her chin. “As you said, this isn’t a game. I’d rather return it now, because . . . because . . .” She shrugged, and he read everything contained in that small motion. Because she didn’t need to worry over two men who let their fears control them. Because he hadn’t truly meant for her to be his wife when he’d given it to her.

Because she had no reason to come back.

Johan held himself still around the pain that opened up inside of him, around his hopes for them collapsing like the walls of gingerbread houses.

“Okay.” He clutched the ring. “Well. It was fun, right?”

“It was a good adventure,” she said softly. Then she leaned down to kiss him on the head. “Good luck, Phoko.”

“I can arrange the flights and take you to the airport,” he said, trying to inject casual cheer into his voice. “I know you made fun of my car but—”

Nya shook her head. “My grandparents have arranged the flights. And I can get to the airport myself. You have to go meet your family and deal with the referendum. Make sure you talk to your sibling, okay? And listen, too. Lukas needs you right now.”

She turned and walked through the door, bedsheet trailing behind her, and she didn’t look back.

Johan wanted to call out her name, to throw himself at her feet, but he just sat there in numb shock. This was the despair. Seeing Nya walk away from him and not being sure if she would, or should, walk back.