I’d never been a possessive partner, never saw the reason in it. But now, I’m relentlessly protective of her—jealous, greedy—my conscience corrected. Could anyone blame me? How could I not become obsessed with her when she is the only escape I have from the grief that haunts me. Eight months, hundreds of days, and thousands of hours all spent getting to know her. And I do. Know her. Better than she knows herself, even.
