The first time she said it, he was on the floor, looking for something.
"I love you."
It was quiet, as if a passing thought. But he froze, like it was the most important thing in the world.
"Say it again," he said, turning to look at her.
"I love you." She whispered.
And there was something about the way she sat there, quivering like a leaf, that made him want to sit down and hold her forever.
"I love you I love you I love you."
She was getting much too brave, and the words rolled off her tongue like they’d been waiting for a long time to be heard.
"I have been too afraid all my life." She said. "But I am tired now. Screw building walls and hiding emotions.
"I am fucking terrified, and perhaps I don’t know much. But I love you," she laughed. "I know that I love you."'