" Please don’t look at me like that.
He lowers his gaze, picks up a strand of my hair and twirls it around his finger.
“I miss you,” he says to it.
It’s barely audible over the sound of the storm raging outside, but in here, it’s like a roaring crescendo.
Why do his words have the power to turn my world upside down?
Why do will and shame and guilt and sense fall by the wayside when I’m with him?
Because you love him, comes the answer.
You love him.
You love him.
It echoes like the clap of distant thunder. "

― Leylah Attar , 53 Letters for My Lover (53 Letters for My Lover, #1)