“We chose to not hurt each other,” she continues, and the way she says it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself of it. Like she needs to believe this ending is something more than pure tragedy. “We chose to make every decision together.”
She doesn’t say the rest.
She doesn’t have to. Because we both know what comes next. It’s playing out in front of us right now.
My hands shake where they hold her, and I hate the way my control is slipping. I hate how powerless I feel.
But if she won’t say it, I will.
“And in the end,” I finish, my fingers threading into her hair, pulling her close as I press my forehead against hers. “It killed us both.”
And gods help me, I don’t know if that version of me tried to stop it.
Because maybe—just maybe—he never wanted to at all.
