I watched him, keeping my hands folded in front of my blue dress.

“She built a wall around you, Derek,” I said.

“And you stayed behind it.”

“Because it was warm there,” he said, his voice dropping.

He looked down at his shoes.

“It was easy to let her tell me how special I was while she tore you down.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders slumping under the heavy black fabric of his gown.

“I liked being the favorite,” he admitted.

The honesty of his words hung in the quiet corridor.

“I knew it was unfair,” he continued.

“Every time she compared your startup to my internships, or my social life, I just sat there.”

“You were younger, Derek,” I said, though my chest still ached from those years.

“I wasn’t a kid in college,” he said.

“I wasn’t a kid when I let her buy my apartment in San Francisco.”

He looked at me, his eyes earnest and wide.

“I wanted the status,” he said.

“I wanted the easy road.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Now I’m done,” he said.