[Except that she doesn't. All Benedikta knows is that he did leave her, and then very nearly left her again, both times when she had been ready to spill her heart to him. Ready to rip it out of her chest because she couldn't take it anymore and press it into his palm to hold instead.]

Should I?

[She questions him, her brow furrowing against his chest, because does she really know him still? They have changed so much, grown so far apart that they are still learning each other again. No longer are they on working on the same frequencies, finishing each other's thoughts and sentences, reading each other that way that they so easily could back then...

She very much doubts it because she thinks he still doesn't quite understand where she's coming from, and trying to explain it to him is like pulling out her own claws and fangs.]

Because I asked you not to leave me, and then you...

[A low growl under her breath, and she pulls on the edge of his shirt tighter. She won't repeat it again.

Her fist comes up, and she brings it forward to pound against his chest, though it's weak and tired, but she holds it there.]

I should stand on my own feet. I shouldn't need you. I shouldn't need anyone. Not anymore. I am not her anymore.