The anger bubbled up inside her, threatening to pour out, and she knew in the moment that it was only her God-given patience that kept a slur of hurtful remarks from slipping out of her mouth. It was the worst excuse possible—a copout if there ever was one.
"I shouldn't let this go," she said, the tears welling up again, this time one slipping down her cheek before she could even attempt to reign them in. "I should hold it against you, and I should be angry, and I should stop talking to you." There were plenty of things she should do—could do, even, and no one would hold it against her because of her physical state. "But I won't, because you're my sister. And you were supposed to be mine." Even before she'd officially married Ari and taken on the Fisk name, Dionisia had thought of Zelda as a surrogate sister in a way—she guided her in the magical world in the way Tristessa had been meant to guide her in the muggle world.
And yet, both had disappointed her by leaving her alone.