I remembered when Stephen was three, burning with fever. I had stayed up for two nights straight, neither eating nor sleeping, just to take care of him.
When his fever finally broke, exhaustion weighed on me. My hair was a tangled mess, and dark circles were painted beneath my eyes, making me look like something out of a ghost story.
But he had wrapped his tiny arms around my neck, his childish voice sweet and soft.
"Auntie is the prettiest! Even prettier than a fairy!"
That memory was from another lifetime.
As he grew older, Tessa’s visits became frequent, and with each passing year, his hatred for me deepened.
I picked up the dart, rolling it between my fingers before calmly taking aim.
"Stephen, have I ever taught you that when you hurt someone, you'd better be ready to face the consequences?"
He knew my aim was deadly. I had grown up in the countryside, perfecting the art of hitting my mark, stones, birds, targets. I never missed it.