Malini, Would it have been better if I had left you answers? Written you one final letter, and folded it into your trunk, or in your bed, in the place where I slept beside you? Would it comfort you at all to know that I wanted to love you forever? That I wanted to be yours for the rest of my life? That I chose hurting you over letting you and everyone I love die? Maybe not. Maybe it’s better like this. Hate me, Malini. Hate me and live. I can love enough for the both of us. She walked alone.
