"I know you knew," she murmurs. Or at least she assumed. It had been easy and unspoken, back then-- before he was taken. She'd known he loved her, at least; if she hadn't been confident of that they never would have fallen into bed.

But saying it-- it feels different. There's a part of her, she thinks, that has always feared admitting her feelings. And another part of her that's faintly, irrationally superstitious; but surely they're past the point of worrying, there. She's already lost him and been lucky enough to find him again.

"But you deserve to hear it."