Noctisardor Bypass john 13:20

heda did not know the bleak thoughts which prowled behind the veneer of that worn and godly face. she saw amadeo only for who he presented himself to be: a grieving widower who had given his pain to god, and encouraged her to be thankful for all the good she had not lost.
but she closed at his next words, just a small expression which shuttered her to the very notion in mind, body, and soul. in all her imaginings and self-loathing, heda had dreamt of what her life might have been like even after caracal's death. if she'd done things correctly, kept to her year of mourning and stayed in sweetharbor, she would have realized in time that her choice should have been john.
a vestige of purity might have remained then, a humble widow living in respect of the husband she had abandoned. 
instead, she had — well. heda adored her boys, knowing that in many pious eyes, she was worth less now. 
love. it had died with caracal. 
and for the physical act itself, well. heda had lost even the barest intrigue in such matters. in part it was due to the demands upon a body which gave too much of itself. but another goodly portion was her own decision that her unworthiness might dirty someone else.
heda gave amadeo a quick, apologetic curve of her mouth; "i regret not living as a widow. part of my atonement is going back to it." it felt beautiful to speak of these things to someone who truly understood them, and engaged with her in discussion on these matters of god.