"Alright, just focus on recovering. Silas and I will go make dinner."
She stood up and Silas eagerly followed her, dragging her out of the room.
Once again, I was left alone.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, the sharp pain keeping me sharp.
"This time, I won’t let myself be slaughtered so easily."
Amaris, Silas, I would take back what you owe me with interest.
Ever since Silas had arrived, Amaris seemed less wary of me.
Seizing her carelessness, I secretly poured out part of the bitter medicine she had given me. Slowly, my strength began to return.
That day, when I stepped out of my room, I was greeted by a sight that twisted something inside me.
Silas sat in the main seat of my house, the very chair my father had left me. His posture was arrogant, as if the place was already his.
Amaris bustled around him, overly eager to please, a sweetness to her tone I had never heard before.
"Brother Silas, have some water," she cooed.
As Silas took the cup, his fingers brushed against the back of her hand.
The touch lingered, his fingers creeping up her arm, nearing her chest.
I let out a soft cough, an interruption in their little game.