She says the words I'm sorry, but they sound just like that: words. As she continues, every syllable that falls from her lips feels like a stone in my gut. I try to hide the shock and dispair that I feel inside. I'm not sure if I"m doing a good job or not - the only ever time I've experienced such horrid rejection was when Mother and Ivezho left, but of course, there was no one around to see those silent tears.

But now there was, and she was right before me.

But she didn't care.

I swallowed hard.

I had accepted a life without my twin. I had accepted a life without a companion despite the fact that my soul cried out for another constantly. But somehow this felt harder than all of that. More fresh and deep and -

I had told her on the beach that I missed her, and she had laughed at me, her eyes full of confusion. Glacia was a distant mistake in my mind - Khvasir a child who seemingly needed nothing from me. Was that what made it so easy to forget that mistake? Because they had forgotten me as well? Had Ranjiri forgotten? Did she even care? Was I being selfish in thinking any of this - her reaction - had to do with me? Was it possible that she just didn't care about me, regardless of what I had done? That those things only added to her general dislike of me?

Had I really read her so wrong?

I had thought..

I had hoped.

I had told her I missed her once upon a time. And here I was telling her I wanted to say goodbye. Both times though, what I meant was I love you.

"I see." I finally manage to mumble, stupidly. My words feel as thick as my vision does, as if the tears that threaten to push themselves forward are also blocking my vocal chords. "I'm sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night then. I had meant to wait until morning-" Rambling. I'm rambling, but the words are the only things that are preventing my knees from buckling and my eyes from overflowing. If I keep talking, it isn't quite goodbye. If I keep talking..

"-but Ktulu, your mother, I had no idea that she was - anyway - she came along, you see. And so.." Finally, my lips shut and my gaze rose slightly to find hers. I must look like such a fool, on the edge of her new home, in the dark, mumbling about having met her mother, my voice sounding nonchelant but with undertones of the type of hysteria that comes with grief. 

"And so-" I repeated, losing my train of thought. Her eyes were too distracting to speak, and the words I didn't think it was important pounding in my ears.