Everything Rosita just said, everything she believes about not opening herself up to be hurt again the way Abraham casually cast her aside, is true. Is honest. She sits with these words from Jesus for a moment, catching her breath, and hears the sense in them.

But also: "It shows you things about yourself you didn't know," she says, slowly. Her fingers spread subconsciously, protectively, where she has them hugged across her lap - her belly.

"And god, Jesus, when you're in it - nothing can touch you. That was so important to me, when I had it. Everything was shit and everything was hard but at the end of the day I had someone beside me I knew I could lean on. Even if that didn't turn out to be true - I'm not sorry, either." She won't do it again, but she's not sorry she did. "Maggie's right. And you're right: you can be happy without it. It's not something you get to choose, in the end, to have or to not have - but it's worth knowing."