What else can she do? He doesn't need her here. She doesn't want his last memory of her to be of tears. She holds her head high, swallows, and tries to mirror that smile back to him. But it isn't all right, not for her. She's numb when she turns away, dimly aware of the door ahead of her.

The handle is cool under her fingertips, and for a moment, she thinks she might look back. But she can't, or else she will lose it. No, let him remember her like this.

(Just let him remember her, that's all she asks.)

The door opens and she crosses the threshold.