“Then you’ll survive hearing that,” I said, “and we will work through it together, however long it takes.

Hate isn’t the opposite of love, Silas.

It’s not even close.

The opposite of love is not caring, and that girl clearly cares, or it wouldn’t still hurt this much on both ends.

I believed that, and I still believe it, and it was the truest thing I knew to offer him in that car.

The opposite of love is indifference, and there was no indifference anywhere in this story — not in a boy who kept copies of letters no one answered, not in a girl who had kept a stuffed rabbit through every move of her life.

Whatever was waiting behind that door, it was not indifference, and so whatever it was, we could work with it.