“My sister died,” Amala said. “Beyond that, what could—”

“Don’t give me the same old speech. I know your sister died. I also know how strong and wise you are. But the strong, sensible woman I came to know before Kat’s death is nowhere to be found, and I know you well enough to know that it’s not only losing Kat that’s weighing on you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Amala insisted.

“All right, fine,” Paulina said. “I’m going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me if I’m wrong. But you need to speak from the heart, not from this defensive, troubled place where you’ve been hiding. Is that fair?”

Amala thought about it for a long moment, knowing she completely trusted Paulina—and her judgment and wisdom. “Yes,” Amala said, already feeling a little sheepish to realize she had been hiding in a defensive and troubled place.

“Well, then,” Paulina said, “it’s my belief that you’re not only grieving for your sister’s death, you’re finally truly grieving for having given up Henry years ago. The possibility hanging over you of perhaps resuming that relationship is too terrifying for you to even think about, let alone talk about, even though you know that talking through such feelings is the only way that you can really come to terms with them. And on top of that, a part of you is angry.”

Amala felt the truth of Paulina’s words permeating through her, making her tremble from the inside out. But she turned in astonishment toward her aunt at that last word. “Angry?” she echoed in that defensive voice Paulina had predicted.

“Yes, my dear, angry. I’ve experienced a great deal of life and have cared for a great many people. I have seen people grieve, and never once have I observed grief that didn’t come with some degree of anger. It’s natural to feel angry over losing someone you love. But who can you be angry with? God, perhaps? And yet I know you believe it was Kat’s time to go, and you have a strong faith in God. So, I suspect you’re angry with Kat.”

“Why would I be angry with Kat?” Amala retorted, sounding even more defensive.

“Because she left. A part of you knows she didn’t choose to go, but she still left, and however irrational it might sound, you’re angry with her for leaving. But even more importantly, my dear girl, you are angry with her for the predicament she has put you in. You thought you had it all worked out, that you had come to terms with it. And you did. If Kat had lived, everything would have moved forward smoothly according to the peace you’d made over the situation and the possibilities of what you could do with your life. And then Kat had to go and die. And not only did she die, she looked into your eyes and made you promise to marry Henry. And you are so angry with her for doing that to you. But you, who are always so self-composed and dignified; you, who always tries to do the right thing and be appropriate, have no way to express that kind of anger. It’s trapped inside of you and it’s slowly killing you, my dear, as surely as cancer killed your sister. Until you can see and accept how angry you are, you will never be able to make sense of any of this.”