“Are you sorry?” The words were quickly out of him, a single breath. “I am not,” I said. “I am not either.” There was silence then, and I did not care about the damp pallet or how sweaty I was. His eyes were unwavering, green flecked with gold. A surety rose in me, lodged in my throat. I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.
