When I forgave Gregor — and I did, before the end — I did it for me.

I did it because I did not want to carry the weight of hating him out of the world with me, because hatred is heavy and I was traveling light now, and because forgiveness, real forgiveness, is not something you give the other person.

It is something you set down so your own hands are free.

“I forgive you,” I told him, near the end of the hour.

“Not because you’ve earned it.

Because I don’t want to die holding it.