For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth. "You think I'm jealous of him?" she asked Evan, and it wasn't rhetorical anymore. "I'm not. I'm jealous of you. Because even after everything, you still believe someone could love you without flinching. And I-I never let myself believe that."
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