Love is a luxury. It's something that people are allowed to indulge in when they're not simply trying to survive and keep other people alive.

But she's still afraid that the more she misses him--his face, his skin, the way he looked at her--and the more hope she has that she'll see him again, the more she has to lose.

She let him go once. Every day demands that she release him over and over again.

But this kind of love can't survive. Love's a luxury.

Even if their supplies of love are finite, they've figured out that life is, too, and they're no longer rationing.

Our love is our burden.

—Mira, no entiendo todo lo que hemos pasado juntos, lo que significa todo esto. Pero lo que sí sé... —Se enjuga una lágrima de la cara—, lo que sé es que algún día lo echaré de menos, incluso las partes más duras, incluso los horrores. Te echaré de menos —le dice mirándolo a los ojos—, este momento, aquí y ahora.Bradwell la mira como memorizando su cara.—Conseguiré llegar —le dice Pressia a modo de despedida.—Lo que quiero es que consigas volver —replica el otro.

When I first met you, I thought we were made for each other even though we seemed like opposites in some ways and we fought. But now...""What?""Now I feel like we weren't made for each other. We're making each other—into the people we should become. Do you know what I mean?

—Estás despierto, despierto de verdad.Asiente y dice:—Más o menos.—Me alegro de que hayas vuelto. —Y es verdad, no cabe en sí de felicidad—. ¡Has vuelto de veras!—Nunca me fui.—Me salvaste en el río.—Y tú a mí aquí.