In spite of himself, he still flinches at her touch - but he doesn't pull away from it. He looks from her hand, to his own, trembling and white-knuckled...then up to her face. Sad. Apologetic. Remorseful.

He sighs, looking...tired, more than anything else.

"...I'm not angry, exactly. I'm - hurt. And part of that is what you did to me, but...." A beat, brows furrowed. "Part of it is that I...I should have known better. This - you and I - it was never going to be what I thought it was. It just...it wasn't."

He rests his hand over hers.

"It might take me some time to get over it, Sarah. Both how you hurt me, and...and how I...don't love you. And maybe I never did."