Fenella rolled her eyes. "You make it sound like an international incident. It was just a chance encounter with someone from Soraya's past. Don't make it into such a big deal." She glanced at the sisters, who were pretending not to listen to her conversation. "You can't be with me twenty-four-seven, Din. Life is full of hazards, and you can't protect me at all times. It's impractical and it would be suffocating."
The silence on the other end stretched so long that she wondered if the call had dropped.
"Din? Are you there?"
"I'm here." His voice was quiet, controlled. "I understand that you feel that way, but I would be ecstatic to be with you every minute of every day. Not to guard you, or restrict you in anyway, but just to be with you. Obviously, it's not the same for you, which is, well… not ideal."
He was hurt.
"Din, I didn't mean?—"
"I know." He sighed. "You need your space. You're still figuring out how to be in a relationship after so long alone. And I am too. It's as new to me as it is to you. But when something like this happens, when you're in danger and I'm not there... it kills me."
Fenella closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to the brooch. She could feel the echo of his emotions in it—not through any psychometric gift, just through knowing him.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm not used to having someone worry about me."
"Get used to me worrying about you because you matter to me," he said.
"I'm beginning to understand that." She opened her eyes, watching the city scroll past outside the windows. "We'll be back in less than two hours, and I'll bring you a tasty sandwich."
"I don't care about the sandwich."
"I know. But I'm bringing you one anyway. Because that's what people do when they—when they care about each other, they bring food."
She'd almost said it. Almost said the words he longed to hear. But not over the phone, not in a van full of people, not when her nerves were still jangling from the afternoon's events.
"Be safe," he said finally.
"Always am," she replied, which was true and false at the same time.
She'd tried to be safe, to take care of herself, but it hadn't always worked.
"Bye, Din."
After she ended the call, Kyra touched her shoulder. "He loves you."
"I know," Fenella said. "That's what makes it so hard."
"Love is supposed to be hard?" Yasmin asked, a bitter edge to her voice. "I thought it was supposed to make everything better."
"Love makes everything more," Fenella said, thinking it through as she spoke. "More wonderful, more terrible, more complicated. When you love someone, you give them the power to destroy you and trust them not to use it."
"That's scary," Parisa said. "And also overly dramatic. Sometimes love can be quiet and sensible."
Fenella chuckled. "I guess everyone has their own definition of love."
