quick, sharp, final
We write so many stories. We only know one ending.
"If you had wanted me then, you wouldn't have Rachel now. And if you didn't want me now, Rachel would have nowhere to go."
"That's not true," Cuddy whispers darkly, shakily, unsure and imprecise in the way she's placing her anger among his arrogant statements but resolute in one thing: that she has to put it somewhere.
I love you more this way, he said. They both hated compromise. It had to be true, didn't it?