[honesty comes easy with himeka. the other woman never pushes, never pulls, never forces anything from wanda; she's a steady stream of expectations, calm above the surface and clear enough to see what lies beneath—no secrets nor hidden agendas.

so when her hand is squeezed, questions are asked, wanda finds herself bolstered by this friendship that spreads into something more akin to sisterhood.]

That I don't— [her voice catches for a moment, but she swallows and continues, voice quieter] —deserve happiness. Not after what I've done. That I was just... thinking what I wanted to think.

To make me feel better.

[it's no secret that wanda's been through a very rough patch recently, and that she still continues to struggle with this in the quietude of days. busywork at the farm is a welcome distraction, but there is so much that can be done. wanda isn't blind to himeka and nero's efforts of trying to keep her company when she sways towards listlessness.

it's no secret, either, that she's found someone who makes her happy. the letter on the dresser of their shared room being something she continues to read every other day, having let himeka know about it, too. she's found a kindness that she didn't think she would have been allowed to ever have again.

her hand slips from himeka's, curling both of her own towards her middle, uncertain.]

Even if something happened to him to make him say those things, they're not— untrue. I killed people just because I wanted the sons of another Wanda. I killed people who had families and friends and children. [with a shaky sigh, managing to keep the tears at bay, she glances back towards their path through the forest, gaze downward; she isn't proud of what she's done.] I can't undo any of it. I can't—

[bear with all the guilt and shame, and all this anger she feels at herself. this one good thing she had — it feels so pointless.]