" You don't even like me, remember?" That's what I try to say. What actually comes out of my mouth is closer to a baby's first attempt at babbling. " Shh." He runs his fingertips along my cheek, caressing my face. " Hush. I'm right here." He looks at me with deep anguish in his eyes. Like there's so much he wants to tell me but feel it's too late now. I want to stroke his face and tell him that it will be okay. That everything will be all right. And I wish so badly that it would be. "