“But that’s not your fault. And it’s not like I knew what would happen when I told the machine to save you.”

“You didn’t know what you were doing at first. I understand that. But when Kaori told you how she discovered the new future because of what you did, you made the choice to take us on the run. You didn’t let me choose. You hid this from me. Like… like I’m a child you have to protect. Like you didn’t trust me.”

“Because I knew what you’d say.”

I sounded angrier than I was proud of. In the silence, the waves lapped at the shore behind him.

At the café in Montréal, he’d sank into the chair at the table across from Kaori. They sat for a minute in silence until a server dropped off a cappuccino for him, which she’d ordered before he’d walked by. She’d probably asked the Envisioner what he’d want to drink, of course.

“You deserve to know what’s really happening,” she’d said. “Even if Hayes won’t tell you.”

She’d said it had been Figueiredo’s idea—his mistake—to chase us. She was trying to appease Figueiredo so he’d let her access the All-Eye, which was her fault for putting her own wants over the safety of the world. She’d known all along that all she’d needed to do was lay it out to Yusuf. Stick to the math. All of this is the universe trying to right the equation.

“I’m sorry.” Something pulled at my throat. I dropped the palm frond and reached for Yusuf. His hands were rough—callouses dotting his palms—and I flipped them over and traced the lines there with my fingertips. When he looked up, I squeezed his hands.

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you,” I said. “I just knew what you would say. That this would happen. That you would come and tell me that you being alive is not worth billions of people being dead.”

“I’m not worth—”

“Because you’re not selfish like I am. But I need you. And… and… you’re the one who told me that every history is equally possible or equally valid or whatever. Just choose the one where you stay alive and we can be together.”

I was losing him. My reasons unraveled in his hands that blurred in my eyes.

“I’m asking you to choose,” I begged.

We sat on the sand for a while as the fire burned nearby and the waves lapped higher on the shore. The air smelled of salt and smoke. And regret. He crawled to my side and we leaned against the mattress together, watching the logs burn down to embers.

“I wish I didn’t know.”