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“He’s your anchor,� Danil says quietly. “No,� I whisper, my eyes lifting to the full moon. “He doesn’t fight the tide. He controls it.�
Maybe that’s what makes love—all the moments, big and small. All the memories piled up one on top of the other, just like those Northern Lights that paint across the sky at the edge of the world. Maybe, when it comes down to it, love is in the act of living. It’s choosing—breathing—that person every single day.
“But� Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I did it once, and I won’t ever do it again. I missed you every day I was gone. I wondered, more often than once, if I’d made a mistake. And every time I stayed away a little longer, it felt like I was losing my breath. Like I had less oxygen in my lungs. I was starved of it without you, El. You don’t make me feel trapped, okay? Never. You’re the air I breathe.�
