“What hurts the most isn’t the fact that you left,” I admitted, wiping a tear from my cheek. “I know you had to go. You were dying in that house. I get it. I understand that. What hurts the most is the fact that I stayed, and she still loved you more! And I’m jealous of that. I’m jealous and I’m resentful and I’m so fucking hurt that nothing I ever did was enough for her!
