And maybe it is only by finding yourself that you can feel the true intensity of becoming close to another person.

You don't know, but I'm noticing.

You went and broke our lives. You are so much worse than a cheater. You killed something. And you killed it when its back was turned.

The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it's the temperature of happiness.

I know there are epic tales of romance, where love means you're supposed to die. Where it's all about sacrifice. But I don't want to die. I don't want Stephen to die. I'm looking for the scenario where we both get to live. Where we can continue this marvel that is love and discovery and trust.

He has no idea how beautiful the ordinary becomes once it disappears.

Is that all we need? Can the way we say each other's names encompass all our history, all our love, all our fear, all our fights, all our reunions, all of what we know about each other, all of what we don't know?