Наречена

“I may never have been anyone’s main preoccupation, but I know better than to spend my time on this Earth simply begrudging”

“My feelings are mine to deal with. Not hers.”

“The idea that one might be destined to someone who just . . . won’t. Can’t. Doesn’t. All the feelings in the world, but one-sided. Uncomprehended and unbound. A bridge built of chemistry and physics that stops halfway, never to pick up again.”

“It’s past midnight. Prime awake time for me, the cicadas, and no one else for miles.”

“Maybe you’re not meant for me the way I’m meant for you, but I’m going to choose you anyway, over and over and over again. I don’t need a special genetic permit to feel sure that you are my—”…

“I am out there, trying. I had a fucked-up life, too, but I’m dating, trying to get a better job, having interests—you’re just waiting for time to pass. You are a husk. And I need you to care about one single fucking thing, Misery, one thing that’s not me.”

“I know you don’t like my scent.”
“I fucking love your scent.”

“That’s how you felt? With your mate?”
This time he turns to look at me. I don’t know why it takes him so long to produce that simple:
“Yeah.”

Some nights, when he’s walking past her door, he has to whisper to himself: “Keep going.”