“Rather let my left hand take my right hand captive than witness one nation enslave and demolish another. Rather let my heart drag my feet away in chains than witness one ruler flex at the expense of another. Let the flags of nations be white and blank and lifted in the great surrender of humanity. The Scroll of Anatiya 25:3436”

“Maybe the face of the one you love reflects you better than your own face.”

“I have been digging through graves looking for proof that civilizations, people and stories don't really ever die, but what I've learned, over and over, is that they always do.”

“He cups my face in his hands and stares down into my eyes. “Two things…”I take a deep breath and look up at him.“…I’m sorry for everything and… And I’ll always love you. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I hated that I let him touch my sweat, that he knew how I kissed. I wanted to collect my things from him, but the things were only moments.”

“I know that you'll survive the upcoming battle," he said, "because I'll be fighting right beside you and I'll lay down my own life to protect yours.""I . . . oh," she said. It took her some moments to understand. "You . . . will come with me?""Your fight is my fight," he said. Stark and direct, his words filled her with unsparing joy. "Your cause is mine. And more than that. Your heart is my heart. I love you, Astrid. My place is with you. Always with you.”

“And so I make my way across the room steadily, carefully. Hands shaking, I pull the string, lifting my blinds. They rise slowly, drawing more moonlight into the room with every inchAnd there he is, crouched low on the roof. Same leather jacket. The hair is his, the cheekbones, the perfect nose . . . the eyes: dark and mysterious . . . full of secrets. . . . My heart flutters, body light. I reach out to touch him, thinking he might disappear, my fingers disrupted by the windowpane.On the other side, Parker lifts his hand and mouths:“Hi.”I mouth “Hi” back.He holds up a single finger, signalling me to hold on. He picks up a spiral-bound notebook and flips open the cover, turning the first page to me. I recognize his neat, block print instantly: bold, black Sharpie. I know this is unexpected . . . , I read. He flips the page.. . . and strange . . .I lift an eyebrow.. . . but please hear read me out.He flips to the next page.I know I told you I never lied . . .. . . but that was (obviously) the biggest lie of all. The truth is: I’m a liar.I lied.I lied to myself . . .. . . and to you.Parker watches as I read. Our eyes meet, and he flips the page.But only because I had to.I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, Jaden . . .. . . but it happened anyway.I clear my throat, and swallow hard, but it’s squeezed shut again, tight.And it gets worse.Not only am I a liar . . .I’m selfish.Selfish enough to want it all.And I know if I don’t have you . . .I hold my breath, waiting.. . . I don’t have anything.He turns another page, and I read:I’m not Parker . . .. . . and I’m not going to give up . . .. . . until I can prove to you . . .. . . that you are the only thing that matters. He flips to the next page.So keep sending me away . . .. . . but I’ll just keep coming back to you. Again . . .He flips to the next page.. . . and again . . .And the next:. . . and again.Goose bumps rise to the surface of my skin. I shiver, hugging myself tightly.And if you can ever find it in your (heart) to forgive me . . .There’s a big, black “heart” symbol where the word should be.I will do everything it takes to make it up to you. He closes the notebook and tosses it beside him. It lands on the roof with a dull thwack. Then, lifting his index finger, he draws an X across his chest. Cross my heart.I stifle the happy laugh welling inside, hiding the smile as I reach for the metal latch to unlock my window. I slowly, carefully, raise the sash. A burst of fresh honeysuckles saturates the balmy, midnight air, sickeningly sweet, filling the room. I close my eyes, breathing it in, as a thousand sleepless nights melt, slipping away. I gather the lavender satin of my dress in my hand, climb through the open window, and stand tall on the roof, feeling the height, the warmth of the shingles beneath my bare feet, facing Parker. He touches the length of the scar on my forehead with his cool finger, tucks my hair behind my ear, traces the edge of my face with the back of his hand. My eyes close.“You know you’re beautiful? Even when you cry?”He smiles, holding my face in his hands, smearing the tears away with his thumbs.I breathe in, lungs shuddering.“I’m sorry,” he whispers, black eyes sincere. I swallow. “I know why you had to.”“Doesn’t make it right.”“Doesn’t matter anymore,” I say, shaking my head. The moon hangs suspended in the sky, stars twinkling overhead, as he leans down and kisses me softly, lips meeting mine, familiar—lips I imagined, dreamed about, memorized a mil ion hours ago. Then he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him, quelling every doubt and fear and uncertainty in this one, perfect moment.”