When I held Lucareth in my arms, Annabel's footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a muffled cough from the bathroom. My eyes drifted to the shadows on the floor without thinking; the silence of the room blended with the rhythmic breathing of Lucareth's deep sleep.
I waited for a while. Inside me, a suspicion I already knew the answer to began to stir. When Annabel returned, her face was pale, a thin line drawn at the corner of her lips. The sleeves of her robe were tangled around her trembling fingers.
"I'm sorry…" she murmured, averting her gaze. "Lately… I haven't been feeling well."
After laying Lucareth down on the bed, I stepped closer and took her wrist. Her pulse was racing, beads of sweat glistened on her face. At that moment, everything clicked into place in my mind.
"Annabel…" I said, speaking her name in a quiet, steady tone. I didn't let go of her hand; if anything, I held on tighter. "Are you afraid to tell me? Or… do you not even realize it yourself?"
