Octavia and Erik
"I don't know if I can," Octavia shuddered. "It hurts too much." She bent her head, tears falling onto her lap, and still she didn't brush them away. She'd cried after she'd sparred with Murphy, when she'd pounded on his chest, she'd screamed until she'd cried. Those tears had been frustration, empty of emotion. These were the first real tears she'd shed since Lincoln left, the first real anguished cry.
She was a warrior, she should have been able to manage her emotions. Lincoln's fight was over, hers was not. She had their daughter to live for. She had his memory to fight for. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she choked, the words hitched and awkward and probably hard to understand through the tears.