It's easy to break. So very, very easy. Rose knows that she could do it in a heart beat, less than a breath, more than a second. It would be so easy to give in. So very easy to just close her eyes and let the pain grab her and take her under.

She stares at the rain on the window and wishes that she could do that. That she could allow the gentle slide of tears to turn into a torrent as she let herself go. Rose imagines that it would never stop; the tears, the pain, all of it. She could pretend not to care and in time it wouldn't be pretending. She could become hollow and empty and that would be easier, far easier than making an effort day by day. It would be so easy to give into the pain that sweeps through her, easy to allow the crippling anger and angst to journey through her veins, sweeping away all her life and compassion until she's just a husk.

But she won't. She promised him that she would go on to have a fantastic life and she will, for him and for herself. No matter how easy it would be to give in, she won't.

The hardest thing in this world, any world, is to live in it without him.

And she'll do it.

Even when it kills her.

Because to break is too easy.

And they've never done easy.