When you love someone you let them take care of you.
In books, you always know what's coming next. There are no surprises.
It's choice that makes us human.
You fell in love with someone because of the tilt of his smile, or because he could make you laugh, or in this case, because he made you believe that you were the only one who could save him.
How can you be a survivor, when you can't even remember the war?
How do you tell someone that you weren't the person he thought you were? And more importantly, how did you tell him that you'd meant the things you'd said, when everything else about you turned out to be a lie.