I wish I’d known before it got to this point so I could have stopped it. I'd have chosen her above all else... if only I could go back. Even if it meant never getting to kiss her, to love her, to be consumed by the woman she is and the love she gave me. The only thing I know as truth now is that it’s all my fault and it’s all too late. Her dark eyes hold obvious pain and misery, so much regret, but more than anything I know she looks back at me, her grip slipping, because she loves me. She has no idea how much I love her, though. This can’t be how our story ends. I’ll burn the world down if that’s what it takes. I’m never letting her go.