He crossed his arms, glancing to the drawn-curtained window.

“The two are not mutually exclusive,” he said, quietly. “I don’t even care for the death penalty, let alone the idea of those around me being killed over petty grievances, or – Allah forbid – misunderstandings.”

Aslan chewed his cheek when she talked about his happiness. He wanted to trust her words. He wanted to trust his own, even.

“I haven’t looked for someone to take seriously because I doubt there’s such a person who could pass both your standards and mine. If I marry, I doubt she would be the type of wife you or even Baba would have hoped for. And if I marry, unless she is significantly older … the next step is fatherhood.”

Much as he loved his sister … he couldn’t help but associate that with their mother, well, dying.