Their first conversation was an argument.

He took her to the coast one last time. The same beach where they had made their promise. She was too weak to walk, so he carried her to the water's edge.

"I'll wait for you. On the other side of the stars. Don't rush."

"You're staring," she said, not looking up from her book.

"The wound is the place where the light enters you."

She laughed—a small, broken sound. "You always did argue with everything."

"You have to. But not today. Today, just hold me."