As tempting as it is to wait and let him puzzle over this, she can't. The conversation's a runaway bantha, and the only thing she can do is explain until all the words careen into a wall and everything's over.

"It does," she tells him, reaching for one of his hands. It feels selfish, wanting to slip her hand in his and twine their fingers, but right now, she finds she doesn't give a damn. One last moment when she can keep Han to herself, safe and strong within her grasp, is what she can have. She's going to take it. "He was the reason Luke had to go up there, Han. He had to face Darth Vader."

There's the truth, one that's only weighed on her for the last day. It kills her to think that Luke kept it to himself so long.