[ He puts his arm around her and Clary can't help but lean into it. It's far more comforting than any words she's heard recently, than any of the empty assurances that have been placed in her path. She knows it's wrong to let herself be soothed by his touch, but her heart continues to be traitorous. There's nothing she can do. ]

Will I?

[ She doesn't want to. That's the awful part, Clary doesn't want to move on. She wishes she did. Sometimes she lays there at night and aches because she needs him with her. The phantom weight of his hands in her hair, the memory of his lips. Her stomach always ties itself into a sick knot, shame and weakness carving out a space in her that might never really be filled again.

She can't tell him that. ]

Like you're angry? [ She's seen him furious. But now he just seems tired. ] I wish we could just go away. I don't know, work this out. There's never enough time.