Carefully, he lowers the rag. Is he? To simply say no would not be accurate, but he isn't angry with her, either. Not in the way that she means. He simply isn't sure what to think now that he realizes. How often were they together over the past year and she was contemplating leaving? That very night in her Horizon?

He is not owed every piece of her. There are things about him, parts of his life, that he sees no need to burden her with, either, or isn't ready to do so. It's taken him a long time to be as open as he is with her. He understands that she's the same.

Perhaps it isn't entirely about the deception. It's that he'd have helped her if he knew, at least made sure she'd come home safe, a choice she didn't let him make. And he can't help thinking, what might happen the next time she searches for answers alone and he slept blissfully unaware until the morning? What if she never returns?

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks. It's not accusatory. He just wants to understand. She said she wanted to protect him and he believes that's a part of it, but— "Were you afraid I'd stop you?"