The Things We Leave Unfinished

by Rebecca Yarros

I was supposed to know this woman—I felt it with every fiber of my being.

My father taught me a man was only as good as his word, and that’s what vows were, the ultimate word.

he wasn’t really a love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but he believed in attraction, chemistry, and even that little thing known as fate, and this felt like all three.

I cannot breathe in this world without you.

“I used to think their love was built into it. That’s why she always had it repaired, never rebuilt.”

I see the way he looks at her, like she’s the reason the seasons change and the sun rises until they’re a hundred and one years old.”

They’re careful with each other because they know what they have, they know how rare it is, how lucky they were to survive it all with that love intact.

He had half a mind to tell the potatoes to go to hell and eat his wife for dinner instead,

“Without the potential for disaster, would we ever really know what we have?”

“There’s a warning, a sound your heart makes the first time it realizes it’s no longer safe with the person you trusted.”

“You fight and you thrash because this fated, deep-rooted thing you called love refuses to go down with a single shot. That would be far too merciful. Real love has to be choked out, held under the water until it stops kicking. That’s the only way to kill it.”

“And once you finally get it, finally stop fighting, you’re too far gone to get to the surface to save yourself. And the spectators tell you to keep swimming, that it’s only a broken heart, but that little flicker that’s left of your soul can’t even float, let alone tread water. So you’re left with a choice. You either let yourself die while they accuse you of being weak or you learn to breathe the goddamn water, and then they call you a monster for what you become.

If you wanted a wife who would do nothing more than cook your meals, warm your bed, and have your babies, then you chose the wrong woman. Do not mistake my sacrifices for smiling compliance.

“Since you’re feeding him, I’m going to go work on feeding you. I love you, Scarlett.”

Our fates are intertwined, for I cannot exist in a world where you do not.

“You’ve been through enough bad, G. You have to let the good in, too.”

The epic, rare love story in this room isn’t Scarlett and Jameson. It’s you and me.”

Owen screws up every three days, apologizes, makes up for it, and then screws something else up three days later.

Do not settle for the love that hones your edges and turns you brittle and cold, Georgia. Not when there are so many other kinds of love waiting for you.

This conversation called for armor…or lingerie.