Allegiant (Divergent, #3)

by Veronica Roth

“Let’s just hug already,” he says. Keeping one hand firm on Caleb’s arm, I wrap my free arm around Zeke, and he does the same. When we break apart, I pull Caleb down the alley, and can’t resist calling back, “I’ll miss you.” “You too, sweetie!”

I wonder if fears ever really go away, or if they just lose their power over us.

My father was a difficult man. But he was also a good one.

I wonder how similar my mother and I are, deep down where it counts.

Her eyes drift to mine, and her stare carves me into a smaller man.

“I think you’re still the only person sharp enough to sharpen someone like me.” “I am,” he says roughly.

To me, when someone wrongs you, you both share the burden of that wrongdoing—the pain of it weighs on both of you. Forgiveness, then, means choosing to bear the full weight all by yourself.

He is a part of me, always will be, and I am a part of him, too. I don’t belong to Abnegation, or Dauntless, or even the Divergent. I don’t belong to the Bureau or the experiment or the fringe. I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me—they, and the love and loyalty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.

“If I don’t survive,” I say, “tell Tobias I didn’t want to leave him.”

I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

“The person you became with her is worth being,” she says. “If you swallow that serum, you’ll never be able to find your way back to him.”

Change, like healing, takes time.