During lunch, Ren didn't speak a word. It was easy not to. The conversation was mainly between Zayden, Soren, and Eiran. As he stared at them, he couldn't help but think: a perfect family—a place where he wasn't needed.
The words twisted his stomach, making him feel as though he would throw up everything he had managed to swallow so far.
His hand slipped onto his stomach, a blurred memory replaying as his gaze lingered on Eiran. He tried to push it aside, but the resemblance clung to him. He knew—his child would have been the same, just like this boy: smiling, laughing.
But would he have been happy?
Ren clenched his fist and rose from his chair abruptly.
Everyone's eyes snapped toward him.
Mannerless.
That wasn't how one should behave during lunch with the Imperial Crown Prince.
"What is going on?" Zayden asked.
"I…" Ren's gaze flicked toward Soren.
It seemed the man hadn't recognized him.
Maybe he never saw the poster.
Maybe it was gone.
