They sit in the capital’s half-empty coffee shops—beautiful, strong, and so exhausted their knees tremble. They are stylish and well-groomed, with flawless manicures concealing a soul that is fractured and aching with tenderness. They have learned to handle daily challenges on their own, to make donations, and to work to the sound of explosions—yet they have completely forgotten how to be weak. Because there is no one there for them to be weak with; that shoulder to lean on is missing.

Each of ...