They called each other family and that’s what they were—sisters. Many people in the world had family of the heart, kin by choice rather than by blood, and hers had come along in her darkest hour and saved her life.

If what he said was the truth, it broke her heart. If what he said was a lie, it was broken anyway.

Both within the family and without, our sisters hold up our mirrors: our images of who we are and of who we can dare to be.

I realized I love him just as much or more than I did four years ago. That I'm never live with him" She raised her head to look at her sisters with haunted eyes. "And I don't know if I can live without him.

-Mikhail?...Try making suggestions next time, or just plain asking. You go do whatever it is you're doing, and I'll go search you extensive library for a book on manners.
-You will not find it.
-Why am I not surprised?

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dark, almost black, filled with pain. She'd let someone do that to her. She'd known all along she felt things too deeply. She became attached. She didn't want a lover who could walk away from her, because she could never do that - love someone completely and survive intact if her left her.