Witnessing Dante lose control of his emotions is bittersweet. On one hand, he has always been such a pillar of strength. His reputation among his peers before I entered their lives was one of an aloof, distant loner who excelled at everything that a Dauntless should. Even later, when his life hung in the balance as he lay in the infirmary with a bullet wound in his chest, he showed his warrior's strength and survived. On the other hand, to know that he would show his more vulnerable side to me now, when things between us are unstable at best, even though he has just given me every reason to believe that he will stand by me no matter what. It is heart-wrenchingly poetic.

For several minutes we sit beside each other on the chair, me pressed against the backrest and him balanced on the side of the seat, tears streaming from our eyes. He makes no attempt to move closer to me, or I to him. I wonder just how much he knows about what happened with Jack the day before. I assume he knows enough. It is evident that he has heard something, but exactly what I will not ask. I am not ready to talk about it with anyone.

After a while the quiet sobs subside but we still cling to each other's hands. Slowly, because neither of us is in any hurry to end this reunion, we compose ourselves. Dante is the first to stand, letting my fingers slide from his grasp.

"We should probably head back to the Pit," he murmurs. "Last chance for dinner before final testing."

I sputter a laugh. It sounds forced.

"You make it sound like we're going off to meet our doom," I say flatly.

"Well, you never know," Dante replies.

"Cheery as ever, I see."

He smiles one of those small, charming smiles that I have missed so much.

We leave the room separately, back to our old trick of spacing our departures and arrivals in order to keep others from seeing us together. The need for this tactic will be eliminated in just a couple more days. After our final test and initiation, we will be considered full-fledged members of Dauntless. At that point, our personal lives become our own and whom we are seen with won't matter as much.

Dante and I aren't the only couple out of this crop of initiates. Besides us, there are two transfers: Joseph- formerly of Amity, like myself- and Nicole who came from Candor; and Nate, another Candor transfer, and Jacqueline, who is Dauntless-born. Dante and I became the high-profile couple because of his loner reputation, and after a tragic mishap that left two of my friends dead and Dante seriously wounded, it seems like everyone knew we were an item.

That, of course, changed when I inexplicably broke off our relationship while Dante was still recovering from his gunshot wound. I had my reasons for doing what I did, but things got blown out of proportion and I ended up hurting a lot more people than just Dante. To be forgiven by him, even though he still does not know the motives behind my actions, gives me hope that I can repair the damage I've done to other relationships here. But that will all have to wait until after tomorrow.

I leave the simulation room first, as I usually arrive in the Pit earlier than Dante for meals. Tonight I am later than usual, but of course I still arrive before Dante so when he strolls in a few minutes after me, nothing seems out of the ordinary. We sit in our usual spots at our usual tables, meaning we have our backs to each other. I have no idea what's going through Dante's head as we consume our meals, but as for myself, I am constantly aware of his proximity to me in the room. I try to imagine what he's thinking, or what he's eating, or whom he's talking to and what they talk about. I am completely distracted by my thoughts of him, as though my mind is making up for all the weeks I spent pushing Dante from my thoughts.

When I finish my meal and rise from the table, I glance casually behind me to see that Dante has already left. My heart sinks briefly with disappointment, but I remind myself that we are pretty much back to square one. I think back to when we first began spending time together: stealing away after hours for training sessions, following each other at a distance to places where we could talk or just be alone together. This isn't all that different, really. We have reestablished ourselves in each other's lives on some level, and I am certain that things will move forward from here, but we are once again keeping this between us.

It's hard to believe that was all just a few weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime.

I return to the dorm for what will be my second to last night in my bed there. Joseph and Nate are there, both with their footlockers pulled out to the middle of the floor, rearranging their belongings in preparation for the move out. Both look up as I walk in, but both also look away too quickly. They mumble greetings while keeping their eyes averted, trying to look as focused as possible on their tasks of packing their meager belongings. My reply is almost too bright, and ends up feeling just as forced as their actions. The tension in the room is palpable, so to escape it I grab a towel and a clean set of clothes and hit the showers.

I have come to enjoy my after-dinner showers. They provide me with the rare opportunity to be alone on my own terms. I can center myself after a rough day, or just let my mind wander as the hot water relaxes me. Tonight is no exception. I find myself thinking ahead to tomorrow's fear landscape evaluations and initiation ritual. I am anxious about doing well, anxious about my ranking, anxious about moving up to the housing blocks, anxious about the possibility of being cut. But no, I have to do well on that final test tomorrow. So much depends on it.

Clean and rejuvenated, I head back to the dorm. Nate is gone, and Joseph and Nicole are sitting on Joseph's bed, heads inclined toward each other, speaking in hushed voices. Neither acknowledges me, so I walk right past without a word. I drop my dirty clothes on my bed and hang my towel on its hook on the wall. I drag my footlocker out from beneath my bed, and toss the dirty clothes inside. Just before I close the lid, I notice the only article of clothing that is neatly folded and not entangled with dirty laundry: my dress that I bought for Visiting Day. The dress that, I found out later, Dante had designed with me in mind. It remains the single most beautiful thing I have ever owned. Slowly, almost reverently, I remove the dress from my footlocker. I glance over at Nicole and Joseph. They are holding hands tightly and speaking in voices so low that I can't understand a word. They are paying no attention to me whatsoever. I unfold the dress and hold it out, once again admiring the flowing, comfortable style and feather-soft fabric. Is this dress an actual representation of how Dante sees me? It's a humbling thought. I've never thought of myself as physically beautiful, but this dress certainly is. Dante, on the other hand, is extremely attractive: tall, toned, well balanced, and the way he carries himself like he has all the self-confidence in the world but no idea how to use it. Not to mention his amazing, fire-tinged brown eyes.

Clutching the dress to my chest, I close the lid on my footlocker and shove is back in place. I climb into my bed, holding the dress in my hands so I can feel its perfect silkiness and be reminded of the best reasons I have to do well tomorrow. As I drift off to sleep, I think I hear the soft, choppy sound of someone smothering sobs in a pillow…

The next time I open my eyes, it is morning. The first thought in my head is: "today I have to face my fear landscape." The thought is not as mortifying as I thought it would be, but that's not to say that I am looking forward to it like a picnic. I am definitely nervous about it, but mostly I want to get it over with. It is possible that I am even more anxious about Dante's outcome than my own. I have all but promised him that I would tell him everything after we have completed our initiation. That, of course, means that we both have to end up ranked in the top ten. For Dante, it also means that he must keep his deepest secret from becoming his greatest fear.

I lie in bed for several minutes, clutching the dress to my throat while curled into a ball. Then, at last, I deem it time to rise and face my last day as a Dauntless initiate, come what may.