If I love you more than you love me, I’m as good as dead. Yet I can’t make myself take it back. I can’t just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I’m dying inside.
Why is this so hard?” I whispered. His pulse leaped crazily at my admission. “Everything worth fighting for is hard.
