Whereas it has never bothered me, to wonder if you'll be there when I knock at your door or how many nights you're spending out of your own bed, and realizing that Felipe knows that better than I do. Or to be questioned about why my husband and I live separately, and not have a good answer.

[ she releases him, looks foolishly at genya's bed, which had solved entirely the wrong problem. or solved no problem at all. only directed her restless energy somewhere.

she looks back at him. ]

Would you ... Would you, just this once, stop thinking about me, and tell me what you want. Do you want your privacy? Would you feel hurt?