"I never intended for it to continue this long."
"That is not an answer!" Pain replaced the shock—real pain. Nathaniel had expected anger; somehow, the hurt was worse. "Why?" she asked quietly. "Why would you do that?"
Nathaniel rose slowly. "Because I did not trust what I would find."
Genevieve laughed once—a broken sound. "So you pretended to be a stable hand?"
"I needed the truth."
"And apparently, the truth required deceiving everyone around you."
He accepted the accusation without defense; she deserved that much. "You have every right to be angry."
"Angry?" Genevieve stared at him. "Do you know what the last few weeks have been for me?" Her voice trembled. "I discovered my father lied to me. My family lied to me. People I trusted lied to me." She shook her head slowly. "And now you."
Nathaniel felt every word, because each one was deserved. "I am sorry."
"Do not." Tears gathered in her eyes. "Do not apologize unless you understand what you have done."
Silence followed. Then something unexpected happened: Genevieve looked away first—not because she wanted distance, but because she was hurt, deeply hurt. Nathaniel recognized the difference immediately.
"Did any of it matter?" she asked quietly.
"What?"
"The conversations." Her voice softened. "The friendship. The trust."
Nathaniel answered instantly: "Every moment mattered."
She looked at him again, searching. "How do I know that?"
"Because it changed me." The answer came without hesitation.
Genevieve's expression faltered. "You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Nathaniel stepped closer. "Because I came here expecting to judge you." Her eyes widened slightly. "And I was wrong."
Silence settled between them.
"I thought I would find someone irresponsible, someone spoiled, someone indifferent," his voice remained steady. "Instead, I found the strongest woman I have ever known."