“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “You apologize unnecessarily,” she told him, and turned to meet his eyes. “I know you put a lot of stock in the fact that you’re ‘better’ now. That you handle things. That you cope. But coping takes a lot out of a person, too. And handling things doesn’t mean never struggling or slipping up. Life isn’t that black-and-white, not even close. So I want you to do or say or feel whatever the fuck you like, about everything, but especially about this. And I never want you to tell me you’re sorry for feeling things. Not ever again.”
