Inside the kitchen, Aria moved toward Micah, who was waiting for the water to boil. "Hey, what's your relationship with them?" she whispered.
"Hmm?" Micah hummed in confusion.
"Don't give me that look! You would never get that close with just anyone," Aria hissed.
"Because they are good, humble people, nothing like those snobbish rich types," Micah replied. "Why are you being so noisy? It's not very becoming of you."
Aria clicked her tongue. "Tch. Fine. Stick to that story. Anyway, you are dead once they leave. Hiding something from Mum? Good luck with that!"
Micah rolled his eyes and poured the water into the pot. Then he left the kitchen, stepping inside the living room with a bright smile, balancing the teapot in his hands. He carefully poured tea into the porcelain cups, one by one, as if he had all the time in the world, totally unaware that his gentle mother was quietly sharpening her knife, ready to skin him alive once the guests left.
