"You don’t owe me an explanation," he answered, although the continued hurt in his tone made it apparent that he wished she’d given him one before she’d come with her resignation in hand. This was something they were meant to talk about, he’d thought. He would have given her guidance, give. her reassurance, but she’d never thought to mention it to him. She really was done with him, wasn’t she? That’s what this was all about—not quidditch, not her future career, but the fact that she couldn’t stand to be around him anymore.
"If this is about me," he said, lowering his voice, which had suddenly gone cold and distant. Protective. Defensive. "Don’t quit on my account. I don’t want you to give up your career because you..." He trailed off, hoping she would finish his sentence and confirm that all his worries were true. He couldn’t even look at her anymore; he was too hurt.
"If this is about me," he said, lowering his voice, which had suddenly gone cold and distant. Protective. Defensive. "Don’t quit on my account. I don’t want you to give up your career because you..." He trailed off, hoping she would finish his sentence and confirm that all his worries were true. He couldn’t even look at her anymore; he was too hurt.
