A sharp ache struck my chest. I had tried to let him go, yet seeing such tenderness directed at another cut deeper than I expected.
Alfred nudged Kael lightly. “Don’t favor one over another. Surely she deserves some too.”
For the first time that evening, Kael’s gaze landed on me. His brows drew together, his voice calm but edged with quiet authority. “Bring her another plate.”
“No.” My voice was steady, measured. “I don’t eat prawns.”
“Fish, then?”
“I don’t like it.”
“And chicken?”
“Neither.”
He stared, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Not a trace of hesitation. I met his gaze, lifted a linen napkin from the table, wiped my lips, and said softly, “I do not want what you offer.”
“Betty, are you upset?” Via asked, cautious. “Why not eat something? Please, don’t be mad at Kael.”
I lifted my chin, letting silence answer. The city skyline above watched in quiet indifference as the family gathered, as loyalties were tested, and as the space between us grew wider than any street or alley could measure.
Her hesitant glance made it feel as though the entire room was judging me, though in truth, I bore no fault.