“Sol, your dog, needs rest,” Owel continued, his voice softer now. “And whether you like it or not, this house is the safest place for him. And for you.”
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she wrestled with the truth of his words. She hated the idea of depending on her mother, hated the vulnerability it exposed. But she couldn’t ignore the reality of Sol’s condition. He had been her constant, her unshakable anchor—and now, he needed her.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her defiance wavering.
“Fine,” she muttered reluctantly. “But this doesn’t change anything. I don’t trust her.”
He nodded, his smirk returning faintly. “Fair enough. Let’s get moving.”
With reluctant steps, Neoma followed him back toward the house, not bothering with the umbrella anymore sin
