Nevara
I paced the length of the chamber like a caged animal, bare feet whispering across the stone floor. The fire had burned low in the hearth. Shadows stretched long against the walls, flickering with each dying flame.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the dinner.
The argument.
His voice—raw, furious—echoed through me as vividly as if he were still standing in front of me.
“My father is dead. I don’t have a f*****g mate!”
It rang in my skull with every step.
Why did it matter to me so much? Why did it feel like I’d been sucker punched when he said it—when he demanded to know about mine?
I didn’t owe him answers.
He had his chance. Years ago. And he threw it away like it meant nothing.
And still… the way he looked at me tonight… it made everything harder.
I rubbed my arms, trying
