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What in the ever-loving fuck had just happened?
“Fate is woven with precision, not chance; every thread perceived woven wrong is nothing but an essential right in the complex tapestry of a life.”
“Love is a mother giving up her daughter so she may live. Love is a father dying to protect her gift. Love is a nursemaid keeping a girl’s secret.” She stepped closer, squatted beside us, and placed her hand on top of mine where it rested on Malyr’s chest. “Love is another mother giving up her life so the girl may escape death.”
Love and pain. Truth and lies. Light and dark. Fate and choice. None of them were adversaries; none of them could exist without the other. Together, they were life.
