We used to find whatever bags we could for tea and spend an hour or so chatting after a shift. It had been months since I’d let myself do this, and I pulled my feet beneath me in the chair, looking everywhere but her eyes.
She set my teacup beside me, then took a sip from hers. “How are you doing today, Sophia?” She had always asked this question first, as if it were a therapy session.
And maybe it was. She’d helped the cuts that used to be fresh and bleeding scar over to something cold and stiff.
Still painful, but different. Chronic.
“I’m fine,” I answered, even though nothing was ever fine. Nothing would ever be fine again.
My lie was met with a pitying gaze. “I don’t think that’s true.”
I shrugged. None of us were okay, and we both knew it. We were treading water in a vast, violent ocean with nothing to hold on to. I longed to sink beneath the surface. I could marvel at the sanctuary in drowning. Either way, I couldn’t breathe, so why not just…submerge?
There was tranquility in death.
No prayers. No words. No oxygen.
Only peace.
“You’ve been keeping busy?” she asked.
“Yeah. As much as I can.” I took a mouthful of tea. It tasted of bitter ash.
“I heard you’ve been meeting with the general regularly,” she said. “I’m so glad. Things had seemed strained between you two for a while.”
Would it sadden her to know that I was only meeting with Theo to relay the information I gathered after he sold me to a spy? My gaze trailed over the check-in desk nearby. Behind it, the blue decorative tile that had once been trendy was now chipped and dusty.
“He’s your only family left, right?” Zara asked, voice gentle.
My throat constricted. “I guess. What about you? Do you have any family, Zara? We never talk about them.”
She took a sip of tea. “My parents passed long ago, but I had a husband once.”
“Where is he?”
She offered a sad smile and set her cup aside. “Sometimes we fall in love with the wrong person.”
I considered that, wondering whether it was truly possible. “Maybe it wasn’t love, then,” I finally said.
She gave a slow nod, thoughtful. “Have you ever been in love, Sophia?”
I shook my head.
“When you fall in love, you’ll see. Even when it ends badly, it was still love.”
How had it ended badly? Was the man dead? Or worse, a Hunter? “Do you miss him?” I asked.
“No. I miss being in love, though. It’s like flying and falling all at the same time.”
I thought of the swooping sensation that attacked during times of turbulence in an airplane. I hated that feeling—flying and falling and completely out of control.
“Sounds scary,” I muttered.
Her smile warmed. “It is. But it’s also wonderful. There’s nothing like it.”
Something uncomfortable poked at my heartstrings. “I wouldn’t want another person to care about.”
Her gaze dropped. “There aren’t many left, Sophia. I understand how hard that is, but if you care for no one, what’s the point of anything?”
