“Why would I want to fight with you? All I want is to love you,” he murmured, his thumb running over the skin on the back of my hand soothingly. “You woke with your own dagger pressed to your throat. You’re supposed to fight,” I repeated, watching as a tear dripped off my cheek and splashed against his chest. “If you are able to imagine your life, your future, without me in this world, then why would I want to live?”
