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And that moment, Rachel saw, it wasn't that she expected shouting or a bigger fight on her hands. It was that she wanted it to be there. This was breaking the cycle—the cycle where she did something wrong, something selfish, something somebody else didn't like, and they didn't hesitate to let her know what a worthless and terrible person she was. Everyone, from grandparents to parents, Bertram, and even Giada, to a lesser degree. A self-perpetuating circle that had heretofore never been disturbed her entire life, and Rachel was beginning to see that she didn't know how to function without that driving force. She blanched away from the unknown, utterly confused and miserable, and unknowing as to how or why she'd gotten there.

"How can you stand it?" she whispered in wonder, notes of self-loathing creeping into her voice that only just missed shaking, the sound of unshed tears weighing heavy in her tone. Rachel wrapped her arms tighter around herself, wishing for a split-second there was much more distance between them, because even if she couldn't see him, she could feel him behind her. "How can you stand to do it? How—how can you be so nice to me after I just—left you?"

But although the words were coming out, and although they made sense, it wasn't at all what she meant to say. There were words, other words, she wanted to voice, but simply wasn't brave enough to. What she really meant was how can you love somebody as a wrong as I am?. It was the question to an answer she was not sure she ever really wanted to know.