“This is not a marriage of love,” Komand’r seethes. “If I had a say, you wouldn’t be allowed near me.”

She hates you for what you represent. For the simple fact she has no say in this marriage. Komand’r wants control; wants to feel like she has a say in her life. She doesn’t, not since her sister was born. Looking at you is making her sick.

You remind her of her failures.

“Leave me,” she says, turning away from you. You don’t need to see her weak.