Luther's breath pulls in sharp, but he says nothing. Staring hard at the air. Not looking at her. Not answering her. The way his eyes move being the only give that he's reading it again. Building an answer out of that empty air, so that he can finally look at her again, while she holds her breath. Like they are some balance she can't fight being even now.

When she's suddenly afraid of the answer, of any answer that will tear whatever she has, had, imagines is left in her hands not gone. That will put her finally in her place. Where she belongs. With the nothing she deserves to still have. But, again, his words are a violence she never sees coming. It feels like being stabbed. No. Worse than being stabbed. Worse than having an arm pulled off. Worse than feeling herself bleeding out, dying, as she lost consciousness.

Don't say that

She doesn't reread it. Doesn't think.
It's the only words, and she can't stop them.

She couldn't hate Luther if her life depended on it.
Not over their father. Or staying. Not even over Vanya.

The fact he can even say those words, tries them as a joke. She can't.