Her eyes shift back and forth, searching his face, looking for the lie and finding nothing but absolute honesty. "So –"

His hand is so tight in hers that she almost can't feel how hers is shaking. "So I wasn't wrong, before?"

She's staring up at him, trying to tamp down on this hope that keeps trying to claw its way along her ribs and through her chest. "That night in Leipzig, I thought – it seemed like –"

She sighs, closes her eyes, sets her jaw, and stubbornly tries again. "It seemed like you felt the same way I did. There was this – spark. Did you?"