Urvi

“I did not expect...this, Elena. I knew I would change, knew my life would be different, but I did not expect to become unrecognisable to myself. I...I can go days without showering or sleeping. I am either ravenous or disgusted with the idea of eating. I record my body like a lab technician: how much milk am I making? How much blood am I leaking? I look in the mirror and I don't see Sophia Rocchetti, I don't see me. But I... I am addicted. I did not expect my brain to change like this, my psychology to be turned on its head. I think about Dante all the time. What is he doing? Is he happy? Sad? Is he comfortable? Breathing? Even when he is in my arms, I am paralysed with worry. But...I love him so much. It hurts how much I love him. Every day I don’t think I can love him more and then he looks up at me and I—”
― Bree Porter, The Rocchetti Queen

“Delilah. We react to each other like the vinegar-and-baking-soda experiments we used to do in science class as kids. Even now she brings out the immature ass in me. But the second she walked back into my life, I became aware of two uncomfortable but undeniable facts: I am lonely as hell, and Delilah Baker feels like home.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Love.” The word floated between us on a soft gust of air. “Deep, abiding, unconditional love. You want it so much you’re willing to live for it.” Most people thought the biggest sacrifice they could make was to die for something. They were wrong. The biggest sacrifice someone could make was to live for something—to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you didn’t recognize. Death was oblivion; life was reality, the harshest truth that had ever existed.”
― Ana Huang, Twisted Love

“I don’t even know what this” - I wave my hand between us - “is.”
His lips pinch. “About fifteen years in the making by my count.”
“Fifteen years? Are you saying you liked me back then? Because I won’t believe that.”
A scowl darkens his features, and he sets his hands low on his lean hips. “I wasn’t mooning over you, if that’s what you’re asking. But there was always something, Delilah. I don’t know what to name it. Not love. Not hate. But something. Like an itch that wouldn’t abate. You were always there, under my skin.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy