“There is nothing tragic about the fact that I met you here in this world,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “Or about the way I feel when I kiss you, or when your body curves next to mine when we sleep. Nothing I could possibly regret about the way I find calm in your chaos and solace in your shadows, and if we end up ripped apart and ruined, it will still have been worth it all.” He gripped me tighter and bowed his head against mine, as if in prayer. “And so no—no, I don’t consider us a tragedy. At all.”
