Even so, Meredith flinches. It takes conscious effort and a lot of it to make her stay where she is, frozen in mid-flight at those words. Of course it wasn't. The night wasn't supposed to be like this and his life wasn't supposed to be like this, shared with her. It's never supposed to be like this, but this is what they have and she hates how she can be so sure of him, so certain, most of the time and still have it all taken out from under her so easily. She hates the way it turns her skittish, how she can't decide if she wants to scream or cry or leave and say nothing at all, how she wants him to tell her she's wrong and knows she can't believe it anyway because it's so simple, so true. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and if things were the way they'd been meant to be, he'd never have loved her at all. "You didn't choose it," she says, and it means a dozen different things, though she only really intends comfort, however stiffly offered. "You didn't ask for it to turn up. It's okay." It really isn't.