"Please... don't ask me to go with you, because if you do, I'll go. Please don't ask me to tell Frank about us, because I'll do that, too. Please don't ask me to give up my responsibilities or break up my family"... "I love you, and if you love me, too, then you just can't ask me to do these things. Because I don't trust myself enough to say no."

Because being comfortable meant she might lower her guard, and she could not let that happen.

For them, it was nothing but an ordinary day on an ordinary day on an ordinary weekend, but for her, there was something revelatory about the notion that wonderful moments like these existed.

I knew it wasn't fair, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help it. And after a while, the anger I felt just sort of became part of me, like it was the only way I knew how to handle the grief. I didn't like who I'd become, but I was stuck in this horrible cycle of questions and blame.

She was everything I wanted. She was beautiful and charming, with a quick sense of humor, and she supported me in everything I did.

And for just a fleeting moment, a tiny wisp of time that hung in the air like fireflies in summer skies, she wondered if she was in love with him again.

Love hurts. There is nothing as painful as heartbreak. But in order to learn to love again you must learn to trust again.