His warm hands contrast against the coldness of my own.

“Lia….” Theo whispered, his tone questioning the tears running down my face.

The words in my throat failed to leave my mouth; only sobs escaped, sending worry to Theo.

“Darling,” he said, gently.

The small voice of love sent tears to fall quicker and heavier.

“I-I am so dreadfully tired of feeling so weak,” I confessed, the words filled with deep sadness. “I try to find strength, Theo, but I am so exhausted.”

Theo’s eyes fall in sorrow. He clasps my hands tighter.

“Lia, my love, you are not weak—“

“Yes I am,” I bursted. “I am! I am! Did you see me yesterday, how I couldn’t compose myself when my mother insulted you?”

“Darling, how is that a sign of weakness? That is not being weak, that is being strong, sticking up for me, showing compassion, that is _strength_.”

Theo wiped the tears from my face.

“Diamonds are beautiful, but they are also strong,” he said. His hand touched my heart. “This, Lia, this is your greatest strength. Do not think love is weak.”

“Never.” I said. “Love is never a weakness.”

“Exactly.”

The two smiled as they held their hearts close.