“You told me that you loved me, Serena,” he says simply. His eyes are earnest, liquid. So profoundly good. “And while I’m willing to resign myself to an existence without the person I love, I refuse to condemn you to it.” I square my shoulders. Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking dare cry. “It was very good sex, and I—I made it up, Koen. In the heat of the moment.” His eyes are compassionate. “I read your letter.” “My…?” “The one on your desk. With my name on it. It changes everything, Serena.” The letter I wrote for him to read after I died. I shut my eyes tight, trying to block the memories of
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