Draven.
After Meredith left, silence wrapped around the room like a second skin.
I stood at the window, staring into the night beyond the glass, thinking.
Her words played over in my mind, soft but firm, reasonable but laced with disappointment.
I hated how she could always say things that unsettled the parts of me I worked hard to keep buried—the parts that still knew right from wrong, the parts that could be... human.
Well, damn it.
I ran a hand down my face and exhaled sharply. Then I straightened, left my bedroom, and strode toward the second floor. My footsteps were firm, measured—no hesitation.
By the time I reached Xamira's door, I heard the muffled sniffles from inside.
I didn't think she would still be crying till now, so I opened the door quietly and stepped in.
Xamira was curled up on the small lounge chair beside her bed, arms wrapped tightly around her little legs, her cheeks puffy, and her eyes red.
