Zephyr's stomach churned. Heart flared in his chest as the door creaked open, gaze steadied on the piercing brown eyes.
Sylvia’s mother clung to the door, eyes sore, reddish.
There was no anger, no resentment, only tears.
The stare in her eyes made it obvious that she was still clueless to the fact Sylvia was alive. If she hadn't seen them, then where could Sylvia have gone?
Zephyr's breath caught in his lungs. His bones quaked, mind scrambling for answers, clues he must've missed. Then softly, almost downed in the silence, Sylvia’s mother's voice reached him.
“Zephyr,” the woman said softly. She sniffed, tugged her blouse to cover her collarbone as she steadied her gaze on him. “To what do I owe the visit?” Her voice thickened, though still laced with grief.
Zephyr's thoughts ran wi
