I continue crying even through the night, remembering the scent of my mother and the sweet eyes of my father. It's been a long time since I've recalled them so vividly, and hearing and seeing them again has shattered me completely.
"You'll be okay," Maia says to me.
I turn to look at her and realize she's left her bed to sit beside me. She gently strokes my hair, which only makes me feel even more miserable.
"Stop doing that," I ask her.
"Doing what?"
"Pitying me. I hate it."
"I'm not pitying you."
"Yes, you are. You pity me like I need that kind of charity."
Maia shakes my shoulder firmly until I finally give her the attention she wants, turning fully to face her.
"I don't pity you, and I don't think anyone who truly knows you does either."
I turn away again.
"Listen to me, Luke. I'm serious."
"Yeah? And what makes you say no one pities me? Have you talked to everyone behind my back?"
