It hurts. That light touch of his hand is like a fresh wound in her heart, every breath back to aching like broken glass in her lungs. In those moments, she nearly drowns in the feelings of loss and rejection, those good intentions crushing and already broken heart.

"Why does it have to be hard?" she replies, not meeting his gaze but not moving away either. "Why can't we simply take comfort in each other while we can? Why should it be more complicated than that?"