SERAFINA
That I had finally realized how much he already knew.
Sort of.
He wasn’t coming down the stairs. He was already there. Still and silent. Like the hallway was his living room and I was the one trespassing.
I didn’t ask him why he was standing there.
Hell, I didn’t need to.
Because his posture said everything. Like he’d just come down, caught the end of that conversation — or maybe just enough of it to decide staying silent was the smarter move.
He didn’t look curious.
Didn’t look mad either.
Just… still. Like the hallway was his living room and I was the one trespassing.
I didn’t give him the reaction he wanted. Or maybe I did. Honestly, I didn’t care. I walked past him, up the stairs, back stiff like I hadn’t just been sucker-punched by my own sister in designer heels.
