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“I’m saying that you are my own good. And for you, I gave you a choice, but you chose him.”
“I don’t choose him. Not anymore. I’m choosing me.”
“Yes, Goldfinch. Because I’m choosing you, too.”
Why is it that a man can make you feel like nothing, when you have given him everything?
You’re not the villain in my story.” “I am,” he says without remorse, his sharp jaw tight with tension. “But I’ll be the villain for you. Not to you.”
“I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, Goldfinch. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
But in my head, I’m whispering, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.
