I remembered every word. That needs to be said first, because later I claimed I had been tired, distracted, or insufficiently attentive. When Nejra suggested abandoning the purchase of a large apartment, I said I understood. When she asked whether we could move somewhere smaller the following month, I agreed. The next day I said we had merely considered possibilities. That way I kept everything open long enough for her to abandon the question.
Initially I considered it a way to avoid arguments. I disliked her proposals but did not want to appear stubborn. I let her go to sleep peacefully. In the morning I would express surprise at her certainty that we had agreed. I said she was putting words into my mouth. Very soon she began repeating sentences several times, watching me confirm that I had heard.
That irritated me. I claimed she spoke to me like a child. I did not admit creating a situation in which an ordinary answer no longer meant anything. Once, after a conversation, she left keys to another apartment on the table. She said she had found somewhere she could afford alone. I nodded, certain that this decision would also dissolve if I did not treat it seriously enough.
On Saturday her sister arrived with a car. Nejra began carrying boxes out. I asked what she was doing and why she had not told me she was really leaving. She looked at me across a chair back. She no longer tried repeating the entire conversation from the previous evening. She said I knew. For the first time that brief sentence contained no plea for me to confirm her memory.
I could have admitted it then. Instead I told her sister that we had obviously misunderstood each other. Her sister refused the role of judge. She simply took a box Nejra had packed and carried it downstairs. I was left without an audience to turn my confusion into evidence. Nejra checked the bathroom drawer and placed her key on an empty part of the table.
After she left I wanted to write that I was ready to talk. I read the sentence several times. We had talked for months. There had been no shortage of words, only of my willingness to retain my answer the following morning. I deleted the message. Later I sent one admitting what I had done, without claiming I now understood everything deeply enough to deserve another chance. She did not reply. This time I remember that clearly too.