She supposed she'd always just thought he'd... get over her. Find someone to be happy with. Have a good life with. Just because she was emotionally stunted and incapable of forming romantic bonds or even a sexual relationship with someone didn't mean he was. Of course, she'd done a variety of really stupid things while drunk off her arse, but she'd never managed to have sex with anyone but him when she wasn't drunk, and not just because other things had happened during the war. She wasn't even sure if she actually had enjoyed any of it, not on a real level, but simply done it because she was drunk and she'd hoped to feel.... something, anything, after all the shit she'd done and been through and lost.
She'd lost him, even though he'd still been alive. The pain of that, of losing him and the rest of her family...
"You deserved to be happy," she said quietly. "I always wanted you to be happy." Even if, had she dared think on it, the thought of him with someone else could have broken her heart. She wished suddenly she'd been as abstinent, less drunk and less horribly stupid and less acting out of anger for things that had been done to her, for none of that had ever brought her any joy like he did just by being nearby. She wouldn't want to hurt him, not ever.
Her legs curled up on the bed and pressed her, knee to hip, against him, a hand going up to cup his cheek. Her head tilted up and she kissed him. "But I'm so selfishly glad to have you with me, Ewan."