[ Her arm around him and the warmth of her hand remind him just in time not to crush his hands into tight fists- he won't hurt her. He concentrates on remaining actively mindful of his physical reactions, breathing out slowly to find control- and so his voice isn't as harsh and furious as the storm raging under his skin. ]

I don't want her regret, or her apologies. I don't want her forgiveness.
I want her to look at me. And to know that she sees what I am. What I choose.