Rhea
Her words leave me shocked to the marrow, as the very thing I've been trying hard not to think about is, according to her, the truth.
“What do you mean?” I ask, wanting to make doubly sure that what I'd just heard was actually said to me.
I see her face assume a look of discomfort, looking as though she's just tasted bile. It's also difficult for me to miss how shifty she’s become in her seat, now wanting to be anywhere but at the table with me, having to answer my question.
“You shouldn't think too much about what I just said. Please.” She answers, rising from her seat.
For my own part, I've become hard-pressed to prevent her leaving me in a half-solved dilemma, and I grab her wrist, holding it in place where it sits on the table.
“What do you mean?” I ask again, this time tr
