Tegra Kalmaku knows that her husband loves her. He shows it constantly--in the warm, sleepy smiles he gives her over the breakfast table, the way he runs his fingers through her ruthlessly plain hair, the hours he works to give her all the things he thinks she ought to have. He cares for her as much, as deeply, as she does for him; there's never been a moment when he's made her believe otherwise.
But when she sees him with his friend, his pilot, his hero--it's hard. Hard watching the shining light in his face, the way his every look and movement is oriented towards the other man. She'll quietly absent herself from the room, with only the barest of acknowledgments from her distracted husband. She has no part in what's between them.
Tegra knows her husband loves her. But she knows, too, who it is he worships.