From THE WAY WE LOVED by Judith Ravenscroft

It seemed to me then that I would never understand all the peculiar ambivalences, the hatred and love, the pain and grief that lay between them. It was their story, not mine – and there was some relief in that conclusion; I felt returned to myself, a free agent. But I also felt bereft, as if the veil protecting me from a full view of our reality had been cruelly snatched away.