“he swore—silently, fervently—that he would do better. He would be better. Not merely more powerful, more present, but more attuned to her soul. He would learn the angles of her mind, the timbre of her joy, the secrets of her skin until she forgot what came before. Until the memory of Kåre was not just erased, but irrelevant—no more real than fog at dawn. He would not say it. He would not beg.”