“It was always going to hurt, Zenny-bug,” I whisper against her lips. “Always.” I soak in a last vision—dark, shining eyes and a tart, little nose and a sweep of lush, ticklish curls—and then I surrender her to the hands of God and her sisters. I close the door to the waiting room behind me, effectively slicing our love apart for good, and as I do, my heart breaks one last time.
