“Will there ever come a time when you won't see me as a monster?' he asked suddenly.
She stopped at the softness of his tone, so unlike the unfeeling prince she had come to know. Some part of her wanted to reach for him, to smooth away the unhappiness creasing his face, to touch the scars that made him him.
'Monsters cannot become men,' she whispered instead, and the darkness hummed its agreement.
He exhaled through parted lips, and his unhappiness only increased. 'Of course. That was selfish of me.'
That does not mean I cannot love a monster.”
―
Hafsah Faizal,
We Hunt the Flame