Emily had just set down the woven vine basket filled with Diplazium esculentum into the seawater, splashing it to rinse clean before heading toward the pile of dry firewood. Her movements were brisk, yet she deliberately kept her back turned to Ethan, as though facing him would let him see straight through her.
Ethan sat leaning against the trunk of a tree, his gaze never leaving her every motion. His voice was low, steady: “Avoiding me again?”
Emily’s hands faltered for a moment, then she bent down to pick up a dry branch: “I’m busy.” she replied curtly.
Ethan rose to his feet, the sharp c***k of twigs breaking under his boots as he strode toward her: “Busy avoiding me, you mean? You still haven’t answered my question from this morning.”
“There’s nothing to answer.” She didn’t look at
