The Nightingale

by Kristin Hannah

I always thought it was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I’d like to be known.

“Ask for help when you need it, and give help when you can. I think that is how we serve God—and each other and ourselves—in times as dark as these.”

But when he looked at her—and she looked at him—they both knew that there was something worse than kissing the wrong person. It was wanting to.

All their words were designed to reinforce a wall that had already been breached.

She wouldn’t have understood how dark a side love could have, how hiding it was the kindest thing you could do sometimes.

In Paris, with a glass of wine in your hand, you can just be.