She remembered how he’d whistled in the darkness of the dungeon, laughing at danger, as though it had been made purposely to amuse him. Now she saw that he’d been driving away her own darkness, day by day. And day by day, she’d changed. Because of him, she’d become more than she’d been—or perhaps more truly herself. Because of him, she’d learnt to like and trust herself again. Because of him, desire had become a pleasure, not a shame.
