"I don't understand," the hermit says to the ghost in the desert. "How could you not see how destructive your love had become?"

The spirit does not shed any tears, but perhaps that is because she has already cried an ocean of them for her friends, her children, the countless masses that have suffered for her foolish naiveté. There aren't any left for either her husband or herself.

"Friend; I will tell you a story of a wife who once loved her husband. That they were both young, they were both passionate, and though they loved each other well, they were selfish of their own happiness." The force ghost looks into the distance, then continues, "They do not know how to live together, how to both give and take. They hurt each other, in both anger and ignorance, until even the love they once shared becomes something dark and suffocating."

She who was once Padme Amidala Skywalker looks back towards the old jedi master.

"They cannot see what they have become; they just continue together as they always have. They continue to destroy themselves. And they whisper to each other in the dead of night: I am sorry. I do not mean it; I just love you far too much."