“So do I.” She couldn’t hold it back any longer, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I love him. I know he cares about me, too, but… I think some part of him believes he’s not good enough for me.”
“It’s probably just the situation, sweetheart.” Her mother took her hand. “You both went through a lot together. It’s natural that you would feel close to him.”
“That’s what he said.” But it wasn’t what Shanti wanted to hear.
“You are very different people,” her father said. “He works as a fighter, and you work for peace. I always imagined you with a scholar or an attorney. I’m grateful to him for getting you home alive, but, Shanti, he lives a life of violence.”
“If there weren’t people like him who were willing and able to fight, people like me wouldn’t be able to do our work.”
Her father’s expression became troubled, and she could tell he was struggling with that idea. “I suppose that’s true. When did my daughter become so wise?”
“That’s what he taught me.”
And now Shanti would have to get used to life without him.