He had stopped flinching when she touched him. She thought it was a good sign. After all, all she could think about was him.
About his careful, calculated embraces. How he thought through every encounter, making sure that he didn't go too far.
About his sad smile. How he wasn't sure he should smile after all he had been through.
About his final "good luck," knowing that they might never see each other again after it was over.
It would take time, she realized. The wounds were too fresh; the pain still sharp. But slowly, eventually, they would get there.