Hawthorn’s proposal kept her up last night, as haunting as restless spirits, echoing over in her mind: A fresh start with someone who understands you. Isn’t that what you’ve been searching for?

She shivers, exposed. Is he right? Has she been looking for a way out of her misery all along? Did the hunger of her lonely heart lead her to Hawthorn? Is he the missing piece that is meant to fill the hollowness she carries inside like trouble? This person with whom she shares a language of loss, a connection through pain few understood, whose strange melody of Tibetan singing bowls and yogic chanting, organic farming and backbends, drifted into her darkness just as she was leaning into the silence in search of a new rhythm to follow? Can she live within the movements of this new song? Will its resonance be enough to fill the icy sphere of loneliness she carries inside?

With an unfocused gaze, she keeps a passive watch of the hawks, distracted by the war within her. Conflicting sides tug in opposing directions—duty versus desire; staying versus fleeing; rebuilding versus starting over.

Is it even possible? To start over? Or will she simply carry her troubles with her like items in a suitcase? After suppressing them all day under the noise of a new life, will she be able to stop them from howling in the night?

Part of her fears change. This part says that it is best to stay with what she knows and continue rebuilding her life from the debris. She’s been doing it and it’s working. She’s finding a better way.

The other part of her craves freedom, like the hawks soaring above. This part says it isn’t wrong to want a fresh start. People do it every day. People start over. Sometimes things are broken—broken beyond repair. Hawthorn’s family likes her. He adores her. He accepts her, broken pieces and all. Without him, this part reminds her, she might not have found a better way.

As the two sides jerk and yank, Kavita feels close to splitting. She can’t deny the allure of Hawthorn’s proposal, its temptation, its promise. The reckless selfishness of a fresh start. She isn’t sure she has ever made a decision like it before in her life. She is accustomed to consulting her loved ones, weighing her wants against the good of the family, adjusting her wants accordingly. She has been raised to be a good daughter, and that is what good daughters do. They compromise, for the good of everyone, even if doing so makes them feel as if they are being torn from the truest part of themselves. They stay.

And she has. Stayed. But where has everyone else gone? Despite her devotion, her love, she has found herself alone.

And she is tired of it. It is exhausting, this cold.