---- as if he were barely holding himself together. Ernest couldn't make sense of it. Why would someone like me, who seemed so devoted to Conrad, choose to die? What had Conrad done to deserve that? Conrad didn't understand either. He'd been with me for seven years, and by then, coming home and pulling me into his arms was second nature to him. I wasn't some ethereal beauty. I was all brightness and sunshine. He used to tell me my smile was like spring's earliest light, the kind that would quietly wake the world. I'd always put up half-hearted protests, calling him such a child. But in the end, I'd give in and let him have his way. I wasn't the type to show affection, but I believed Conrad without question. Even when it came to my career and dreams, sometimes all it took was a word from him to make me compromise. He had this naive idea that I was completely ---- obsessed with him and couldn't possibly live without him. But now, the truth was staring him right in the face. There was no fooling himself anymore.