Sometimes the person who benefited most when you forgive someone was yourself.
What she felt for Jena hadn’t been love. She knew that now, but it had been something that had felt bewilderingly, beautifully, deceptively like it. And though it had ended in horror and betrayal, she had learned something from Jena, too. Loving someone didn’t mean you could save them, and you didn’t save yourself simply by the act of loving.
