The horror of what I'd done.
The grief for people I'd once loved.
The guilt that no amount of justification could wash away.
The relief—God, the relief—that it was over.
That I was here.
That even though I’d killed innocent people to punish the snakes, at least someone on this planet still loved me.
My Tiger was warm, alive, andmineand I hadn't lost her to my father's snakes.
My arms tightened around her until I knew it must hurt, but she didn't complain.
Didn't pull away.
Just held me tighter in return.
"That's it." She breathed against my hair. "I'm here, and I'm not letting go."
A sound escaped me.
Not a sob.
Not quite.
Something between a breath and a groan—a release of pressure that had been building for hours. For years, maybe. Decades of walls cracking under the weight of a single woman's tenderness.
"You're okay." She moved her hands in slow circles across my back. “I love you, and you're okay."
The words washed over me like warm water.
Like absolution I hadn't asked for and didn't deserve.
"I love you, Kenji. All of you. Even the parts you think are too dark to love."
She can read me too well. I must stop this. . .no one on this Earth should know me. . .better than me. . .
And then I let one tear spill from my eyes.
One.
I wiped it away immediately.
She probably knew, but hopefully she hadn’t truly seen it.
“I love you.” She pressed her lips against my temple.
I closed my eyelids.
Another tear left.
Before I could wipe it away, she kissed it.
No.
I sneered.
