My heart has been yours ever since. I don’t just mean my love. I mean the actual, functional, beating heart in my chest is yours. You’re taking it with you when you leave, and I’ll be nothing more than an empty shell with a gaping hole in my chest in the shape of you where my heart should be. I know it’s not healthy, and it sure as hell isn’t fair to put this kind of pressure on you—to make you the essential anchor of my mortal life. To make you the tether to which I stay on this Earth. But you are. I made you a goddess, Elena, and I worship you. You are my religion and my whole life is
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