Sorrow

Luke

Mother sighed heavily and leaned against her pillows. She stared at the ceiling.

The conversation between Father and me reminded me of the next conversation I had with Mother. If she had been the one who died, I would have felt terrible about the things I’d said to her. Watching Father pass so quickly, I realized how short life was.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you the last time I was here,” I said.

She waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

I gritted my teeth. Even in the face of losing her husband, she still held onto her hatred for Sophia. Or maybe she had given up. Either way, this was no time to argue. We had work to do, and neither Mother nor Abir seemed to be willing to put in that work.

“I know you’re in mourning,” I said. The customs of our country gave widows much time to mourn the loss of their husbands. But Mother was also a queen and not one to sit down and let life take over when there was work to be done. “We have much to do to prepare for the