“My father?” Azran’s big eyes looked at those of his mother. Tahla had never mentioned his father, not even when he asked. She always deflated the conversation and set his mind to other things and he would instantly forget. But now was the time to tell him.
“Yes,” she answered and sat quietly for a moment, her fingers stroked the dark curls of Azran’s soft hair. She felt something like a heavy stone bearing down in her chest. She had shielded him for five years, but the older he grew, the more the questions would surface. The silence regarding his origin would become a void he would try to fill with his own imagination. It was time to paint the picture for him, even if the colours were dark.
"Azran," she said softly, her voice echoing slightly against the crystalline walls. "I need to t
