Ah. That… clearly had not come out the way he had intended it.

Malachi blinked, staring forward as he processed her… valid concern. Valid, yes, because he had found himself in dangerous situations far more often as of late and could not exactly guarantee his safety at all times, nor could he guarantee that he would even be careful, but he hadn’t meant it like that.

But the words stuck. Lodged themselves just south of his throat, burrowing gradually into his heart.

I won’t have you thinking about leaving me just yet, alright?

And the way he interpreted it – he knew that it wasn’t what she meant. He knew, or at least he assumed, that she hadn’t meant for it to make him feel even worse for considering leaving the priesthood, but it did. For almost as long as she had lived, he had been a priest. It was as fundamental to who he was as his love for her; did leaving it all behind mean leaving her, too? Or at least leaving behind some part of her, some part that idolized a faithful priest?

He said nothing, for no words came to him then. This life might not have been the one he would have chosen – it was not even the one he wanted now, if he was being truly honest with himself – but he had always had someone else to consider in that choice. He was glad when she followed his quick change of subject.

“…This is for me?” Malachi asked, as if to confirm that he hadn’t misheard. Took the handkerchief when it was handed over, turned it over in his careful hold to examine it. Distractedly, he said, “don’t be sorry.”

How could an embroidered handkerchief stab him in the heart the way it did? His fingertips felt too warm where they smoothed over the design; too destructive, too dirty.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally said, low voice thick in his throat. “It’s better that you gave it to me now, I would have hated to ruin it. Thank you, Nettie.”

Malachi took a steadying breath and lowered the item, but kept it in his hand, holding tightly to it.

“And – please, tell me you’re settling in well?”