But Zash knew us. Zash knew me. He’d given the impression he . . . possibly loved me. “I can’t expect you to forgive me, but I can still ask. Perhaps your heart will change.” “This has nothing to do with my heart. This is about your actions.” Some things were not forgivable. At least not by me. He could plead with Iisus as much as he desired. But I was human. And my heart was broken. All my forgiveness had leaked away.
