The moment of softness, so unexpected, so unfamiliar, brings a fresh rush of tears. I try to hold them at bay, but it’s useless. I crumple against her, sobbing. “Poor darling,” she croons, patting my back. “It can’t be as bad as all that.” I let myself relax against her. Like a child who’s suffered a fall, I’m shaken and clingy, desperate for something sure to hold on to. And I’m suddenly so tired.
This is the same sister who literally just said that their mother was weak and that Belle was a fool. Belle, you are a fool if you fall for this
