My throat tightened painfully. My eyes stung. I looked away, staring hard at the corner of the ceiling like a man clinging to sanity.
She didn't know what she'd done. How deeply that hit. And thank God she drifted off to sleep before she saw me clutch my chest like a teenage girl in a Netflix show.
She murmured something in her sleep, then rolled toward me, her head dangerously close to my pillow. I just… looked at her for a moment. Wondered what life would've been if I'd met her earlier. If I hadn't been broken. If the world hadn't made a villain of me before I had the chance to be anything else.
I lay there, still, listening to her breathing. The rise and fall of her chest. The soft warmth radiating from her skin.
And I loved her. Madly. Hopelessly. Like a lunatic clutching a star.
