She let out her breath, and relief washed over her entire being. He was there. He had come. She would not die alone. He was bruised and beaten, but she saw in his eyes that he was ready. As was she.
A lifetime of conversations passed between them in a single moment — the theological discussions they would never have, the sweet musings they would never whisper in the hammock of Mrs. Stern’s garden. And in that moment, Hannah knew. She was his, she had always been his. In any other place, any other world, they would have been together already. Simon stepped up on the platform. The droning of the political speech, the shuffling of the prisoners fell mute. It was him, and it was her, and in that moment, she knew everything was exactly as it should be.
Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need
