For a long time, things were perfect, at least as far as Reave was concerned. Their life, often surreal, had a storybook-like quality to it, a dimension of unreality. Then when he had told her he loved her, and they kissed….well, sometimes the oldest cliches made for the best descriptions, because she remembered seeing fireworks, surrendering to the naive, innocent wanting of it all. These days, it was the memory she most often looked back on. Could she really leave Avarice? He definitely didn’t deserve such treatment. She loved him with all her heart, but they didn’t have a future together, not like this. She couldn’t make him go through this. Maybe, she told herself, if she could get better. But a large part of herself knew that was a lie. She would never get better. Not really. That’s what she told herself, and she believed it.