Derek continued to stare at the window, the cane in his hand gripped tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. From his vantage point, he could see the shadowy outlines of Annabelle and Sebastian at the garden's edge, their figures illuminated faintly by the moonlight. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the closeness between them—Sebastian’s hand on hers, the way Annabelle tilted her head toward him—was enough to send an unexplainable tension crawling up his spine.
He looked away, but the image burned itself into his mind.
What was she doing with him?
Derek told himself it didn’t matter. He didn’t care what she did, who she spoke to, or how she spent her time. She wasn’t his concern, not in the way that should make this moment stick like a thorn in his chest. Yet, he cou
