He was patient and he waited quietly, holding her hand as long as the connection helped. He had failed to approach Harper when his co-leader had been suffering, trusting that his friend would come to him when he was ready.
That trust had been in vain, and that day had never come. Hadama blamed himself for not speaking up, and though he couldn't change the past, he could strive not to make the same mistake again with another friend.
But he could not force Sohalia to speak, so he remained still and serene, attempting to offer no judgment no matter her choice. The storm held no fear for him, and when the words did emerge they were listened to solemnly and he bowed his head in understanding, though it was the final question that had him raising it again to meet her lowered glance with frank sincerity.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Always." He squeezed her hand again before retrieving his own so that he could balance his cup in large fingers and sip his own tea in contemplation. "It is hard to find people to confide in. Hard to trust them enough to show weakness." He paused, then inclined his head at her. "Hard to admit weakness. Not when so many depend on me." He hesitated, weighing whether to continue, then sighed. It was his turn to look down into his cup and the light reflected from the water there. "And when I did allow myself to depend on someone else... the weight of supporting me broke him." There had been so much more to it than that, but that much had been plain enough in the letter.
That trust had been in vain, and that day had never come. Hadama blamed himself for not speaking up, and though he couldn't change the past, he could strive not to make the same mistake again with another friend.
But he could not force Sohalia to speak, so he remained still and serene, attempting to offer no judgment no matter her choice. The storm held no fear for him, and when the words did emerge they were listened to solemnly and he bowed his head in understanding, though it was the final question that had him raising it again to meet her lowered glance with frank sincerity.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Always." He squeezed her hand again before retrieving his own so that he could balance his cup in large fingers and sip his own tea in contemplation. "It is hard to find people to confide in. Hard to trust them enough to show weakness." He paused, then inclined his head at her. "Hard to admit weakness. Not when so many depend on me." He hesitated, weighing whether to continue, then sighed. It was his turn to look down into his cup and the light reflected from the water there. "And when I did allow myself to depend on someone else... the weight of supporting me broke him." There had been so much more to it than that, but that much had been plain enough in the letter.
