All of Bastila’s anger and resentment had died down, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. “You can write to me instead of calling,” she suggested. Messages gave more time to think about what to write, and she could always wait until she was in a better mind frame to reply, lowering the risk of making things worse. “I can’t promise to always reply immediately, but I’ll read them, and eventually reply.”

It was the best she could offer for now. It was safer. And she wouldn’t face his sad beautiful eyes the way she did now.