a home built on the rocks can only be washed out to sea

If a relationship is like a house, then theirs crashed into the sea a long time ago. Even though time had long washed the wreckage of the actual house into the sea, Jean still finds bits and pieces of the broken glass embedded in her life. It's as if the impact of the house that she and Ningguang had shared crashing into the sea had sent these glimmering slivers of what could have been scattering across time and space so that she could cut her wounds anew again when she least expected it. Perhaps she should not have built the foundations of this house among the walls of her heart— her ribcage, once a white picket fence, now a dilapidated prison, and instead, let the raging waters wash everything away. But if there's anything that Jean has learned in the silent rebuilding of her heart, it's that she's a sentimental fool and whatever new house that she might build will always need repairs.