Maybe it is desperation. Maybe we can't let things fall apart without trying. We can't let go of the people we love.

Real’ is a dirty word in this place.

Tell freedom I said hello.' 'If I happen to see it, I will.

You've been captive for so long that you don't even realize you want freedom anymore.

What have you done? What have you given up?' So many things, Cecily. More than you know.

Before I can process what’s happening, Deirdre has opened her hands and Linden has taken the ring from her and slipped it onto my finger. “Rhine Ashby,” he says. “My wife.

There was a desperate undercurrent to our marriage--a feeling of being in a dream from which I couldn't seem to awaken. A nagging sense that my life, laid out so neatly like the clothes Deirdre left on my divan, was no longer my own.