Sanaa scratched her chin. “I see. I suspected attachment, but not this.”
“Suspected what?” Hira asked harshly. She sat there, holding tight to her
tender chest. Her heart felt exposed, on display, where anyone could simply
reach out and scar it.
“Love,” Sanaa said it with distaste.
Hira slowly stood and faced her. “You think I’m weak because I allowed
myself to love?”
Sanaa said nothing, her own face reserved. And though the captain
seldom said much, Hira was keenly aware that love had broken the woman.
Now they faced one another as mirror images of a polluted past.
Slowly, Hira nodded. “The funny thing about love is... that when you’re
in love, it doesn’t feel like a weakness. When you’re in love, you feel
invincible. It’s only when it betrays you that you realize what a liability it
is.”
“And you’re afraid you’ll have to forgive him,” Delara said, standing to
face them.
Seeing the reality, Hira almost gasped, “Yes.”
“Bullshit,” Sanaa snarled and grasped Hira’s shoulder, pulling her in. Her
face set and determined. “Listen to me, I know of this. I know the treachery
of love. You don’t have to forgive anyone if you’re not ready. Forgiveness
takes everything out of the wronged, our emotional strength, our fortitude,
and leaves nothing for the assailant but to bask in our forgiveness.”
Hira studied her face, her wide jaw, the muscles that ran over her
cheekbones, and the curl of her lips. She saw herself in the captain and
understood a harsh reality. If she didn’t disentangle her hate, one day she
would become embittered like the captain.
Slowly, she grasped Sanaa’s arm and squeezed it. “I won’t do anything
until I’m ready. Until then... let’s go question our prisoner.”