Out on her balcony, alone and still, looking out into the inky night sky, Durkhanai told herself in the grand scheme of the universe, this was a minor inconvenience. It would pass, as all things did.

How could the stars be so bright tonight? She felt she could see every star in the universe, but her heart had ceased glowing in tandem with them.

Just a few more hours. Her grip on the marble railing tightened.

She desperately hoped Asfandyar wouldn’t come, lying to herself.

You cruel, insatiable girl, she seethed to herself. You’re never satisfied, you’re never happy. What am I to do with you?

Why was love a punishment? Why had Allah given her a heart if not to use it? Durkhanai wished she could shake herself from this trance, but even as she thought it, her heart cried in protest. She never wanted to lose this feeling, however wretched, however beautiful. Perhaps the memories alone would be enough to sustain her.

Durkhanai was frozen, numb.

Until she heard a noise from within her wardrobe.

Somebody had entered through the passageways. Perhaps she had left the door unlocked on purpose.

I hope it’s Zarmina, she told herself, even though her wretched heart was singing, I hope it’s Asfandyar, I hope it’s Asfandyar.

It was him.

She felt his body slide into the space behind her even though they did not touch. Durkhanai did not turn, either. She did not want to see him. Did not want him to see her. It would only make it more difficult.

She had let her heart flow but all it had done was drench her in blood. She could not afford any more blood loss.

He came to her side, and she turned her cheek, not letting him see.

“Safe travels,” she said, voice blank. “May Allah bless you with a long and healthy life.”

“Durkhanai, please,” he pleaded. “I’m not here to say goodbye.”

It took all her strength not to turn.

“You are leaving,” she said. “Farewells are in order. So khudafiz. Goodbye, ambassador.”

Durkhanai leveled her voice as much as she could. She was still as ice, thrice as cold.

He was still there.

“Go,” she said, trying to keep her voice cruel. But she knew he heard it waver.

“Durkhanai—” he began.

Oh, his voice. It sent a crack through her ice-cold heart, a shiver down her stone-still spine.

“Leave!” she snapped.

Her voice was angry, but it wasn’t directed at him; all the fury was directed toward herself. She held her breath, trying to contain herself. She was an arrow pulled too taut, a whisper away from being released.

She wanted so badly to yell at him.

How could you do this to me? she would say. Don’t you know how much it hurts? Do you understand what you’ve done?

But all she could manage was, “Please. It hurts.”