“You have so much going on,” I say softly. “I don’t want you to constantly worry about me too.” He frowns. “I’ll always worry about you,” he tells me. “It’s impossible not to.” “In a future,” I whisper, “I’d like to think that you just know wherever I am, I’m smiling…and content.” No agonizing. No stress over my wellbeing. “It’s just whether that future is ours or someone else’s.”
