Aveen sat on her chair, head in her hands and shoulders curled, crying. Seeing her upset did strange things to my chest. “I cannot stand weepy women,” I announced. She launched upright, twisting and catching herself on the chair’s arm. “You’re here,” she breathed, scrubbing at tear-stained cheeks. My throat swelled, making it hard to swallow. Who hurt you? “Did you miss me?”
