“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you? After what I did to you.”
“If only that were true. I loathed you, Arthie. I hated you for the span of a heartache before I realized how much I craved you. And I know you yearn for me the same.”
Arthie loved secrets, but love was a feeling much like hate—so full, so heavy, so laden with everything. And for all the secrets she collected, she hated her own.