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What greater love is there than wanting to lay the world in your beloved’s hands?”
And surely there were worse indulgences than wanting to love someone. To be known.
“Priya.” Priya went silent then. Silent and still. The timbre of Bhumika’s voice—the solemn note in it—held her fast. “Promise me you’ll survive and come home,” Bhumika said.
“But choices so large must be made and remade over and over again. That’s how paths are carved, Lady Deepa. That is how you decide your future.”
“You know one of my faces.” “Yes. The one that’s under my hands now,” said Priya. “The real one.”
“I barely understand it, the way I would willingly kneel for you, anywhere, for anything. The way I would fight for you. The way I want to be at your side. Is that what love is, Malini? Is that how awful love is? Because if it is, then I love you, the way that roots love the deep and leaves love the light. It’s—the way I am. And no matter how much I try to be good, to do right—I’m all flowers in your arms, for your war, for you—
Your gifts are you and you are your gifts, I don’t love you in pieces, I don’t separate you into parts.
“But anyone can do harm if they have the right tools. Anyone can be a monster if they have a knife. I just wear mine under my skin. I just… cut differently.”
“I am tired of wanting and not taking,” Malini said. So honest and clear. It felled Priya, just a little. Made her breath catch inside her. “Then take,” Priya said. Wanted and wanted, with an ache that ran right through her. “Take, Malini. I’m here.”
“Priya,” Malini said. Laughter in her voice. “You’re here, aren’t you? I’ve already won.”
I will remember that we are not what is done to us. We are, and always have been, more than that.”
