Flora Bloom switched places with Ethan Monroe. Watching the little boy now sitting obediently in the back seat and devouring the food, she felt a strange pang in her heart.
"Little one, why are you hiding in the car all by yourself? Where are your parents?"
The boy was only six or seven, an age that should have been filled with innocent energy. But as soon as Flora Bloom asked her question, he blinked his big eyes, and tears began to stream down his face in silence.
Even though he was crying, he didn't make a sound. His stoicism held a maturity uncommon for a child his age, and it was heartbreaking to watch.
Perhaps it was her pregnancy, but Flora Bloom found she had a soft spot for children. Seeing the boy cry, she began to comfort him.
"I'm sorry, I won't ask again. Is there anything else you'd like to eat? How about I magic something tasty up for you, okay?"
