holding on to this defeated change in heart
#7
She had known what his response would be before he had even uttered it. It was in the defeated lines of his face, the sag of his shoulders. And at this point, she was working carefully, banking on the stretching minutes to build an invisible wall between them. She did not want to seal herself off from him, but she could see no other way. The transparency between them, the way that they could communicate and love one another, was the one thing that had been the defining factor in their strange friendship, and then in their committed relationship.

And she was committed to him. Completely committed to the idea that she would not let him suffer the way that she had suffered. That was the pain that she still harbored deep within her laboring chest, fresh and new every single day that she lived. There was nothing that she could do to alleviate it. Sometimes it was easier to bear, but today it weighed on her as if it had just happened. To have to feel the reciprocal shadow of that pain was hard to accept, but she had to. She touched his clenched jaw gently and then drew herself away. "I am dying, Jefferson," she said bluntly, willing the truth of those words to sink deep into his mind. He needed to know. This was not a decision she was making blindly. "You can't stop me. What are you going to do, lock me away? I am trying to make this as easy as it can be..."


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