Daphne's thumb brushed over her knuckles.
"It wouldn't be," she said gently. "It is only sharing the burden. I am your sister, and that is exactly what I am here for."
"I don't know how to explain it," she said finally. "It's not that he has been cruel. He is kinder to me than anyone has ever been. But I have never felt so alone."
"Because he will not let you all the way in?" Daphne asked after a moment of contemplation.
"Because he says he cannot be the sort of man I might one day want him to be. And I…" She broke off, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Daphne waited, patient as ever.
"I don't know if I can love him halfway," Alethea whispered. "How am I meant to be content with that?"
"You shouldn't have to be," Daphne said softly. "You have never asked for anything extravagant, surely."
Alethea let out a sigh. She was finally ready to admit the truth to Daphne.
"He told me he cannot give me children, he has never wished for them. And he said it so finally, as if my say in the matter does not have any bearing. If he claims to love me, then I do not understand his reasoning."
"And do you?" Daphne asked carefully. "Want children, that is. I realize this is not something that we have discussed before."
Alethea shook her head, a tear slipping free.
"I don't know," she confessed. "I never thought so much about what I wanted before him. Now I cannot think of anything else. And when I look at him, I don't know if it is selfish to wish for more than he can give."
"Wanting to be loved completely is not selfish," Daphne said after a moment. "I do not think one can blame you for it."
"But what if he is right?" Alethea's voice broke. "What if I am only setting myself up to be disappointed?"
"Or," Daphne said gently, "what if you are setting yourself up to be happy? To be loved as you deserve?"
"I don't know how to find out," she whispered. "It feels as though the act requires a kind of bravery which I do not have to give."
Daphne reached up to cup her cheek.
"You have already been brave," she said firmly. "You left rather than pretend you were content. That is courage, dearest. Even if you cannot see it."
"It doesn't feel like courage."
"You might not see it that way, but I would urge you to believe me," Daphne's voice was soft. "But I am so proud of you."
Alethea's tears slipped free in earnest then, but she did not turn away. Perhaps wanting everything wasn't so unreasonable after all.
"You're thinking of him," Daphne said softly. "I suppose both of you cannot get each other out of their mind tonight."
At that, Alethea's head snapped up.
"Is he still out there?" she posed the question. Even though she had only suspected it at first, she had tried to tell herself that he might not be there still. It was not a rational thing to do in the least.
"Yes." Daphne's expression was careful. "Felicity tried again to persuade him to come in, but he wouldn't. He said he wouldn't leave until you would see him."
Alethea pressed a hand to her lips, her heart beating too fast. She had gotten the confirmation that she did not know she needed until this moment.
"It's raining," she only managed to say.
"I told him as much." Daphne nodded. "He said he didn't mind."
Something in her chest wrenched. All evening she had told herself she didn't care. That she would not be moved by his stubbornness or his pride. But now, picturing him out there, soaked to the skin, refusing to retreat made all her defenses shatter.
