Quasi wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. To see his wife, agonize and lose sleep was killing her slowly. It certainly wasn't helping their baby, either. He felt more connected to his wife than anyone he'd ever met. He loved the feel of her arms, her touch, her embrace, but these days, it was killing him inside, to see her like this. He loses himself in her eyes, happy to drown; yet he must breathe. He knows her reasons for not sleeping; he can hear her night terrors. She talked to Jehan in her sleep, most every night. He's tried several times to get her help, but his wife was just like him, with a stubborn streak and refused any help from him or Sophia. He knows her reasons. He respects and understands them. He would support her. He won't walk away because he'd promised her, he would always stay. She is his heaven's light. His coping with her slowly suffering can't ever be guaranteed. She filled the gaps in his life. Right now, what he needed the most from her was honesty. He deserved to know the truth. For too long, he'd pushed back against his pain if he could remember, medicating with friendship with Darius, and then later, courting Madellaine and eventually marrying her, yet it returns to him in his weaker moments, devastating his mind. To keep repeating this pattern will only prolong it, keep his pain underneath when in truth, it had to rise. Today, he will have to make the choice to welcome his pain as a friend, to let it teach him what it must. Though he will be weaker in the moment, he will be stronger afterwards.

He had to be, not only for himself, but also for her. Quasi will let it through his tower, sit on his balcony, and talk to him until he is wiser, even though each word is a silver blade. They say only the strongest warriors choose their battles, so this is his, let him earn his name. He'll fight for her. At last, he found her, perched in her favorite char out on the balcony. The circles underneath her eyes were more pronounced, purple and only made her cheeks look thin and gaunt, hollow. It was clear to him that his wife had not received a full night's rest in months, not since their wedding night. "Love, you and I need to talk," he began, unsure of how to phrase exactly what was on his mind. "You need to let me help you. I'm not angry with you. I know you've not been going to see Sophia. You aren't sleeping; you talk to Jehan in your sleep. Yes, I know about your dreams, Lena," he muttered quietly, seeing the look of dawning horror on his wife's face. "Jehan is dead. You need to accept that fact right now. He's dead, he fell to his death, and he won't be coming back. It seems easier to accept it than it does to let him continue doing this to you. It seems an easier out than this—this torture you're putting yourself through! He's killing you because you're letting him, even in death. Even in death, Jehan has a hold over you and I hate it. I—I don't know what to do to help you, and it's hurting me. Tell me what I can do for you. You need help. I can't lose you. What are you afraid of, love? Why won't you let us help you? Is it the medicines?" he asked desperately, his gaze piercing Madellaine's heart as he searched her eyes for the truth. "If it's because of the baby, Sophia told us they wouldn't harm it…"

"I—I don't want to harm the baby," she cried, angrily brushing away her tears. "I can't kill it. Not again. Once was enough!"

Quasi stared, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. "What?"

Taking a deep, shaking breath, Madellaine steeled herself. She owed him the truth. He was her husband. They don't keep secrets from one another. Not like this. "A few weeks ago," she began, her voice trembling, "When—when Alice and Darius found me, it wasn't a relapse. I—Jehan, he—he raped me and got me pregnant with a child."

"Oh, God," he moaned, running a hand through his hair.

He thought for sure he was going to be sick. His face paled and turned a shade of green. "You took care of it," he managed.

Madellaine nodded mutely, afraid if she spoke at first, she'd get sick.

At last, she found her voice. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and not like her at all. "I—I don't know if I can do this, Quasi," she whispered, her hand drifting to her stomach. "It's…" She wordlessly held out the vial of penny royal in her hand. "I didn't take it," she croaked. "I couldn't do it."

Quasi stared, feeling his eyes grow wide and round in disbelief as he turned the vial over his hand, hardly daring to believe it. "Lena, are you even pregnant anymore?" he whispered. "Oh, God, what the hell have you done?"

"I threw it up," she emphasized numbly, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. She clutched her knees to her chest. "You can yell if you want. Scream if you have to," she whispered. "But…talk to me," she pleaded.

"How long have you known? Days? Weeks? You didn't tell me."

"I—I'm telling you now," she said. "I—I couldn't carry a bastard child of Jehan like that. I couldn't. It wouldn't have been a child born of love. Not like our child will be." Madellaine tried to stop her tears but speaking of the unpleasant memory she'd been forced to dredge up was too much for her to handle. She couldn't take it. Madellaine sobbed into her hands and her tears dripped between her fingers, raining down onto the balcony floor. Her breathing was ragged, gasping, and the strength left her legs, and she would have fallen had Quasi not rushed to catch her. She sobbed into his chest unceasingly, her hands clutching at his shirt. He held her in silence, rocking her slowly as her tears soaked into his chest. A tiny lapse let her pull away, blinking lashes with heavy tears, before she collapsed again, her wails of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves for her, minutes of her crying broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling her back into the outstretched arms of her grief. Madellaine cried until no more tears came, but still her emptiness and sorrow at what she had done remained. Her husband offered what little comfort he could.

"I screwed up!" she sobbed. "I—I don't know how we do this, love."

"We can make it work," he promised, whispering into the shell of her ear. "We'll figure this out. Shouldn't we try to figure it out? You—you threw up the penny royal. You want this baby; I know you do. Not giving it a chance isn't right, either. I still don't understand why you didn't tell me, sweetheart." He choked back the lump forming in his throat and fought back his tears. "You really think that I would make you have a baby that you don't want, Lena?"

"No," she answered softly. "So that if I went through with it, it would be on my conscience. Not yours," she sighed, reaching up to caress his cheek.

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, feeling his wife calm down instantly at his touch. Quasi reached up a hand and gently brushed away her tears. "I'm so sorry," he managed, his voice wavering. "I'm sorry he put you through that. I think—I think you made the right choice, even if it doesn't feel like it, beloved. You've nothing to fear with this baby. I know in my heart you and I will make excellent parents, whatever our child is or isn't. We will love our child and give him or her a wonderful life. Our child, our baby, will be so loved. You must trust me on this, love. You know our baby is going to have an amazing life. You and I will love this child no matter what."

"I'm sorry," Madellaine begged, the dark bags under her eyes pronounced and prominent. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this," she cried through her haze, barely seeing him through the fog in her eyes. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I haven't been able to sleep. I don't know what to do."

"You need medicines. You need to let Sophia and I help you and stop resisting when we tell you to do something. When we give you an order, it's out of love, nothing more. I can't lose you," her husband snarled through gritted teeth. "I won't. I've already lost so much in my life. I'm not losing you too. You're the one good thing in my life and I'm not letting you go."

"You won't. You'll have a part of me, always. Our baby will need you," she whispered desperately, biting her lip and laying a protective hand over her stomach. She wearily closed her eyes as a tremor ran down her spine. "He'll need you."

Quasi turned his head sharply to look at her, his facial muscles growing hard and rigid. "You are insanely stubborn, woman. Refusing medicines and our help is exactly the thing that is killing you. Do you not understand that, sweetheart? Will I be forced to beat it out of you?" he snapped meanly. "Do you honestly think I could love it and watch it kill you slowly? Do you think that I could love it, or even tolerate it, if it killed you? Because that's what it's doing to you, my love. Our baby—your pregnancy—is killing you because you aren't allowing yourself to sleep and get adequate rest. Here," he said quietly, turning away from her for a moment to get her some water, doing his best to control the anger in his voice. His growing fury threatened to implode as he recognized the beginnings of the all-too familiar hot anger welling deep within the pits of his stomach. He couldn't get mad at her. Not now. Not after the information she'd just divulged.

"It's not the baby's fault," she protested. "I chose this. You have to accept what is!" Madellaine protested, lifting the rim of the cup to her mouth, her hand trembling slightly. "I don't want medicines. I can—I can handle this on my own. Accept it, my love. It's what I want. You have to accept what is."

Unable to control himself any longer, he felt himself snap.

"BECAUSE YOU'VE GIVEN ME NO CHOICE!" he bellowed. "YOU'VE DECIDED THIS ON YOUR OWN, WITHOUT ME!" he roared, overturning the chair he'd been occupying in a fit of sudden anger. He exhaled and took several deep, slow breaths, willing his anger to quell. "You've decided to leave me," he said, feeling his voice growing quiet and surprisingly calm. "We're supposed to be partners!" he said, his voice cracking as he fought back tears. "But this—you've crossed a line, you made this decision without me, you didn't come to me first. Your decision is slowly killing you and costing you your health and eventually, your life. I don't choose that. I'll never choose that," he spat bitterly, running a hand through his red hair in anguish. "I can't do this right now," he growled darkly, standing up and walking away from her without another word, leaving Madellaine alone on the balcony in the cold October air. "You made your choice."

He didn't know how long he paced the empty halls of the corridor downstairs, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists, taking deep breaths and doing his best to calm down. Minutes, hours, he didn't know. "Fine mess, fine mess, now she hates you! She hates you and you deserve every bit of it, because you're a nasty, nasty animal!" he lamented, anguished. What had he done to her? He hated himself. Quasi hated how his anger would build, burning his insides on the way out, burning the one on the receiving end, which was now his wife. He might as well just build a pyre and burn her alive with his anger and be done with it. But he wouldn't. He loved her too much to ever leave her. In times past, every person he'd ever lost control with and had flown into one of his outbursts, he'd reckoned they deserved it. But not Madellaine. She never deserved that. All she had done in the time he'd known her was help him. She was his salvation, his heaven's light. She calmed his soul. In times past, there was the explosion of his rage and then afterwards, the mental framework to avoid guilt, avoid owning the shame that was his. That was how he stayed foolish for so long, so immature, refusing to learn over and over sacrificing whom he was supposed to be to keep a pristine ego. But that pain, that realization, when he let it in, was more education than anything Darius or Victor could have ever taught him.

If he continued to be so angry, how could he love anyone right? How he could he love his wife properly, the way she deserved? How could he even begin to love himself? Quasi found himself outside Darius's study. Not bothering to knock or wait for permission to be granted entry, he kicked open the door, ignoring Darius's shouts as he looked up from his desk. The priest's anger at the interruption evaporated almost instantly when he saw how upset his brother was. "Don't you know how to knock first? Is this what our relationship has come to these days and you—Quasi, what is it?" he said calmly, standing up and coming over to the bell ringer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, hoping it would be enough to calm him. "What's happened? Are you hurt in any way? Quasi, talk to me, please, what's going on?"

"We got into an argument," he moaned, collapsing into a nearby chair and burying his head in his hands. "I—I can't."

"What happened?" Darius prodded gently, pulling up a chair to sit beside his brother, fiddling with one of his chess pieces.

When he turned to look at the priest, Darius was not surprised to see his face had gone hard and rigid, his muscles tensing as he attempted to quell the worst of his anger. God help me, the bell ringer thought, despaired. I—I don't want lose control. Please… "You knew, didn't you? You knew all along and you didn't think that information was worth sharing with me? You, you're supposed to be my brother. We don't keep secrets, especially not like that. It almost killed her. She told me about the baby, the one she aborted a few months ago. You fucking knew, and you kept it from me. I'd have never believed it possible of you, Darius. Why?"

Darius felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. He'd hoped he would never find out. Not like he had. "It wasn't my business to tell. It always had to be her choice," he responded airily, feeling his voice grow cold, steeling himself for another of his brother's outbursts.

Quasi swallowed and his face drained of color. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees as the tensions mounted. "No, you don't understand, Darius," he said at last.

"Well, then, I guess it's up to you to explain it to me," Darius said, fingering his white knight chess piece in his hands. "Tell me."

Quasi sprang to his feet. His chair toppled over backwards and he glared at his brother so fiercely, that for the first time, Darius saw the shadow of a potential warrior on his face. The shadow of a wolf. His dark eyes were raging and livid. "Don't you understand what I've done to my wife and my unborn child?" he shouted, running a hand through his tuft of fiery red hair. "I've made her an outcast, I know it. I never should have married her. I've gotten her pregnant and the child will be like me, I am convinced of it. A monster, like its father."

"It won't," Darius spoke up quietly. "You're not a monster. You are a man, my brother, and it's time you started seeing yourself as one. Your wife does. I do. Sophia does. Why can't you?" He hated to see the heartbreak in the bell ringer's eyes.

"How can I forgive myself, when I knowingly risked passing on my condition to my child?" he shouted, beside himself with fury that coursed through his veins like fire.

"Your condition?" bellowed Darius, feeling his own temper begin to swell to the surface. It was unlike him to get this angry with his brother. "What condition? There's nothing wrong with you! Heed my words, brother. You are normal. You are."

"I never should have married her! I've made her and our baby an outcast. I—I did it against my better judgment and I regret it very much," the bell ringer yelled, pacing the floor of Darius's study, agitated. "What have I done to her?" he cried.

If Darius couldn't get him under control, there's no telling what would happen. Darius stood up so fast he barely had time to process what was happening, as he got close enough so that his face was only inches away from his brother's. "You don't mean a word of that!" Darius shouted, a vein in his neck pulsing as he felt his own anger begin to surface. "I know you don't! You love Madellaine more than yourself. I know you do. I swear to God, if you're even thinking about leaving your wife and unborn child, I will hunt you down and drag you back here kicking and screaming if I must. You're not leaving her. You're not leaving me. You're not leaving Sophia, or Alice or Jeanne. You won't leave your unborn baby fatherless. You're not leaving your family alone like this! You won't. I won't let you do this, brother. You're needed here. We need you. Don't."

Quasi kicked aside the chair he'd overturned. He looked livid.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!" he bellowed.

"Explain it to me, then!" retorted Darius angrily.

"You've only ever seen me here in the safety and sanctuary of Notre Dame, you don't know the daily struggles I face when I dare to go outside!" he shouted. "You don't know how most of Paris sees a creature like me! The stares and the whispers from the townspeople behind my back as I pass them by. They take one look at my scar and my red hair and immediately label me the devil. When they look at me, they can barely talk to me. They're afraid to! Don't you see what I've done? The stigma I've attached to Madellaine, to our child! I can't inflict that on either of them. I won't do that to them. If—if her parents were still alive, I've no doubt in my mind they would be disgusted by our marriage. What parents want their only daughter to marry a monster?" he ranted, disgusted with himself. "I imagine were her parents still alive, they would hate me for what I've brought upon their only daughter, what I've done to her. I've married her, made her an outcast for life, and our baby—our baby is doomed to a life of misery. I can feel it."

"You don't know that," Darius responded quietly. "I think her parents would adore you, just as I do, just as Madellaine does. You made the right choice when you married her."

"If, by the grace of God and a miracle happens and the child is born not like me, then it will be better off, a thousand times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed! No child should have to suffer having a monster for a parent!"

Darius wasn't sure where his rage was coming from, but he could quell it no longer. "You know what, you're right," he responded calmly, cringing as he felt his voice go dangerously soft and quiet. A storm was coming, and nothing could stop it.

Quasi stared, looking as though Darius had hit him.

"Come to think of it, I'd be ashamed of you, were you my father," Darius snarled through gritted teeth. "You're afraid of the outside world because of what it's done to you. I'll give you that one, but you must move on and not let it define you. Instead, you've let it consume you! But I'd have never believed this of you, my brother. Just two months ago, you risked your life to save your wife from that bastard brother of your father's, and yet, here you stand before me, afraid to become a father to your unborn child, ready to abandon it and your new wife at a moment's notice. This isn't what my brother is. You're not my brother I've grown to love and respect and think of as family. Instead, what I see standing before me is a coward. A COWARD!" he shouted.

Quasi moved so fast Darius had no time to react as the bell ringer's fist drew back and decked him square in the eye. He was surprised at the flaring pain that blazed up his arm as his fist connected with Darius's eye.

The bruise would be present on his eye for several days, if he had to guess. It hurt like hell. It was turning purple already. God help me, he thought.

Darius rose to his feet, groaning and holding his eye. The sound of his study door slamming told him his brother had stormed off. "God," he muttered darkly, reaching for the flagon of water he kept nearby and poured himself a glass of water. "God have mercy on me. My brother didn't mean any of what he said, I know he didn't. Forgive me for the things I said in anger. May God have mercy on him, too. His words come from a place of fear, and love."

"Are you all right?" a low, husky voice rang out. Laverne.

Darius sighed, rubbing his temples. "You can come down, now. Laverne. How long have you been watching there?"

"Long enough," Laverne retorted bitterly, leaping down from a rafter beam with ease. "I saw the whole thing. He's out of line."

Darius marveled at the stone gargoyle before him. A thing of true beauty, in the stone panther's face was the sign of proud regality, her muscles lean and elegant. As she paced the floor, her tail flicking, her paws padded noiselessly on Darius's study floor, despite being made of stone. Her yellow eyes gleamed like topaz. Her agitated state grew more restless as she paced, irritated with her son. Notre Dame's bell ringer was her charge to protect.

"What are we going to do with him?" she growled. Her yellow eyes landed on Darius's blackening eye. "Are you all right?" Laverne managed after a long silence.

Darius winced. "This spreading purple bruise is only the surface wound. The real wound my brother inflicted, though, is within, that feeling of betrayal, the breaking of trust that is so essential to true love. For what we love, we protect, right?" She nodded, not saying a word. She didn't need to. He continued. "I know in the moment; my brother was simply reacting. All he's ever known up to this point is raw, unbridled anger. I'm not going to let him leave her," he said thickly, anger lacing into his voice. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Laverne let out a low growl from the back of her throat. "Will you go stay with her? She's up in the tower. The poor dear was quite upset after he stormed down here and left her alone. She could use the company right now, and frankly, so could you."

"But he—"

"Don't worry about my son," she snapped coldly. "He can take care of himself. Give him some time. He'll come around."

Darius nodded. Laverne said nothing more, just leapt back up onto the rafter and retreated swiftly into the shadows once more. She was comfortable in the dark, where she belonged. What a mercy it must be for you, Laverne, he thought as he climbed the steps to the bell tower to attend to Madellaine. To be frozen for eternity in stone, your anger and hatred erased.

Madellaine needed him more now than his brother did.

When he reached the balcony, his heart practically shattered into a million pieces at seeing his brother's wife like this. Her very heart had been broken by the person she loved the most. Her eyes were red from crying and she sat against the balcony wall, resting her chin on her knees. She watched the sunset numbly, her gray eyes growing numb, void of emotion.

"Darius," she spoke up softly. He didn't speak for a moment, just took a seat on the harsh stone floor and pulled her close, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. He didn't protest as she leaned her head into his chest. If anything, the gesture calmed his anxiety. "I take it the whole church heard."

"It's going to be all right," he said soothingly.

"No, it won't!" she wailed, her tears coming again.

"Yes, it will," he reassured, gently rubbing her back.

"How do you know?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Love, you listen to my words, to what I am about to say. I promise you; they are medicine. They come from my soul—a bridge to your own. They are something you can trust, though I know it hasn't always appeared that way. I am sorry for the pain my brother has caused you. He never wants to hurt you. He loves you too much." He paused to gather his thoughts. "They say…they say to give and not expect to receive. There is wisdom in those words. For friendship is love, and love is not a transaction or a trade. Love can expand; can fill any void no matter the amount. Love is healthy when given freely, altruistic, empathic and with gentleness of spirit. I guess the challenge is learning how to give so much with so little returned and still never expect any help or kindness. Maybe the way is to feel the joy that comes from giving, the way the universe rewards such beautiful ways. Perhaps that's how bad situations become well, over time, by letting nature love you, by letting the heart win. I hope so, I really do. I have hope for you and my brother. He loves you with all his heart. I know he will do whatever it takes to keep you at his side, safe. This little…argument, it is nothing to trouble yourself over."

Madellaine burst into tears and smiled weakly, the smile not reaching her eyes. She held out her hand and Darius grabbed onto it tightly, not wanting to let her go. He couldn't. She needed him. And he needed her. God, he needed her. Without her, he was incomplete. She was his family.

"Thank you, Darius," she said. "For everything. Truly." As Darius looked into her eyes, he was briefly tempted to reach up a finger and trace the outline of her lips. He wondered what she would think of him if he were to try. His brother had abandoned his wife. She needed comfort. When he kissed her cheek, Madellaine knew there was more to it. To most, a kiss on the cheek was a sign of friendship. But she knew that a simple kiss on the cheek could convey as much meaning as a kiss on the lips. Simple though it may be, a kiss on the cheek was special, in its own unique way. For Darius to get so intimate, there was always a pressing reason. When he pulled away, she heard him speak as he drew back and smiled, his voice barely above a whisper, soft and gentle. "In your hand," he muttered softly, grinning. Madellaine looked down to notice he'd managed to slip her a small goblet of red wine.

"No. I cannot accept this. Darius, I can't drink wine, I'm pregnant. Remember?" she began, teasing her friend only just slightly.

"None of that," he teased, holding up a hand to stop her.

"But—" she started, but he didn't let her finish.

"I promise you, Lena," he said. "It won't harm the baby." The acceleration of her heart rate had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with what her body really wanted. She looked away as if the outside world held her attention, but after all the time the two of them had spent together, he can read her like a book, his eyes fixated on hers. His gaze was fire. With a gentle finger, he reoriented her face so that he held the gaze she didn't want to give him, stealing the passion from her eyes in a way that only magnified the spark.

There was no smile on his lips, only the hot intensity of his gaze that they both knew was the start of the inferno to come. The priest stayed close to the bell ringer's wife over the next several hours, keeping her company and doing his best to entertain her with stories from his youth. "I know it's late," she apologized, looking up from a book she held open in her lap. "I haven't been able to sleep, so I—I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed Tristan and Iseult," she muttered quietly, a pink blush gracing her cheeks. Madellaine quirked her brow at him as she thumbed through a few of these pages. "You read it often, I can tell by these pages."

"I do," he admitted, not ashamed to admit it.

"If you read this anymore, it'll fall apart," she teased. Madellaine looked away for a moment, and she was getting that look in her eyes that he loved so much. She had stardust in her eyes. His friend had never been more beautiful to him than she was right now, exuding radiance all on her own. Madellaine smiled sadly. "I knew I was right to like you and your taste in good books."

He watched as her smile faltered. She was remembering something. "What is it, Lena?" he asked gently, scooting closer and pulling her close, relishing as she leaned her head into his chest. "What's ailing you? You can talk to me, love." He didn't want to let her go. It was like trying to catch the wind between his fingertips. One minute she was there, gone the next. But still, he would try.

"I—I can't. It's nothing," she whispered, ashamed.

"Talk to me," he urged. He didn't like seeing her like this. "I promise, I won't tell a soul of our conversation."

Madellaine hesitated, not sure if she should broach this topic, but he'd been different ever since her and Quasi's wedding, spending more time with Sophia, and yet something within him seemed forced and unhappy, as if he were burying a deep secret within, and she had a feeling she knew of it.

"I know you love me," she whispered, wringing her hands together until they hurt. "I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it every time you look at me. I've felt it for a while now. I know that, in your own way, you love me. You've been…different ever since my wedding. And—and then what of Sophia?"

"I do," he admitted, surprised by the admission of his own feelings. "More than anything," he confessed. "But, love, you know I would never act on it," he said, taking her hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze. "I care about you and my brother too much to ever threaten your relationship." In many ways, being around Madellaine was painful for him, but he couldn't stay away. She was a reminder of his old life anytime he looked into her eyes; she had Hanna's eyes. A life without her was indeed Hell. He'd already been there, and he had no intention of going back. Not without her. Madellaine was beloved by all in the cathedral, the women of Paris elevating her to a status that was beyond anything he could comprehend. To him, that meant that a part of his brother's wife was theirs and he hated it. He wanted her all to himself. Her memory, her heart, and he knew he was being entirely too selfish, for she was never his. "Hanna was insufferable," he said at last, his voice soft and quiet. "How many times she would yell at me for something trivial, I can't even count. She was damnably intolerable. She was irritating. Hanna got on my nerves every day, ruined all my books once, in a fit while she was pregnant. Love is…" he hesitated, unsure if he should finish.

"Go on," she urged, not relinquishing her grip on his hand. "Tell me the rest. And tell me the truth, Darius."

"Love is a good story, nothing more," he responded, a hint of sadness in his voice. The look on his face was pained. "Her magic, our love, was a good story. She didn't even have the decency to let me die first. She had to go on without me. I think if she were here with me now, she'd tell me to be happy, not to worry, that my…feelings for you and for Sophia, will…work themselves out. I hope that they will, at least. It's unbearable. Hanna would…Hanna would want me to be happy." He sighed, frustrating, running a hand through his dark hair. "Listen to me," he mused. "I sound just like her, don't I?"

"I know what it's like," she spoke up. "I do. I know exactly what you're going through," she said softly. Darius smiled, pulling her close. "I know. If I have you to go through it by my side, I won't ever be alone. You and Sophia. I hope that in time, my feelings for you and Sophia will work themselves out."

Madellaine didn't know how long she stayed like that, her head resting against the priest's shoulder, but she knew it was a moment she'd not trade for anything in the world. At thoughts of her husband drifted towards the center of her attention, she angrily brushed them away for now. He would be fine.

He had, after all, abandoned her and made his choice, and she hers.