Amalia
stop thinking so much
When the conversation resumes the girl becomes thoughtful, some of those old weights returning with memory, nostalgia. He suggests making another home, and Amalia shrugs, unsure how to feel about the idea. In a way the house stopped being home a long time ago, when the light that lived within it died and the girl and her mother did not know how to reignite it.
In a way, it will always be her home, as empty and hollow as it may now be.
"I have the bakery." Hardly a home, but it is where she lives now, and better than the Atheneum, at least. How many nights had Amalia spent among the books, curled in a quiet corner, afraid to find she has forgotten how to be a part of the world? It is an embarrassing thing to admit, she thinks, the self-imposed isolation, the years of not knowing where she belongs. Bowing her head over her work, the girl bites her lip. "One day, I think, it would be nice to have a home again."
But that is enough of her nostalgia, her broken heart and splintered past. Turning curious dark eyes to Deimos, Amalia tilts her face up to meet his, pausing a moment in her work. "What was your home like? And your family?"
you're breaking your own heart
