“Just a little more, Pae,” I breathe. She shudders and I don’t miss the movement. Whether because of the pain or because I finally said her name, I’m not sure. I’m reminded of when she hit the ground. When I was feral, frantic, and I was suddenly aware that I hadn’t said her name to her since we met. And in that moment, I realized that I’d wanted to say it—wanted her to hear it from my lips. Realized that if she died, I would never again get to look into those blue eyes and utter those two syllables that have been a constant in my mind.
