Not my sister

I only realized that I’d fallen asleep while trying to read some old romance novel to keep myself preoccupied when a loud bang made me want to jump out from my skin.

At first, I thought someone had decided our home was the best place to stalk into because Fiona wouldn’t be back by now—whatever time it was—but my sad limbs didn’t help my hastened effort to get into my wheelchair to check who the sudden intruder was and probably defend this place, and myself in the process.

Finally gaining success, I wheeled out of my room, grabbing a club I had beside my desk for special protective reasons—since I could barely harness my perks as a werewolf for full defense.

And then I heard a soft, pained whimper.

Recognition settled in my chest as I saw the body hurdled up on the couch in the living room, moving with small jerks as the small sound elicited from her. Her hair cascaded over her legs, her face tucked between her raised thighs.

Fiona. She’s crying! Why was she?

Gently, I placed the club aside by the wooden shelf before wheeling closer, a pang of concern ricocheting in my chest.

“Fiona?” I called out. She didn’t hear me. She didn’t look up.

Reaching close, I slowly stretched a hand to touch her on the shoulder, but immediately she felt it, her head whipped up, revealing the soggy mess her face had become.

Much like mine had been yesterday.

Her eyes held intense sadness as she held my gaze, tears staining her pretty, now red face. She sniffled, swiping an arm over her face to wipe the tears, and then she winced, more tears spilling uncontrollably, her mouth mewling out soft sobs.

“Fiona, what’s wrong?” I pestered. The sight of her in tears unnerved me. Fiona rarely ever cried. Whatever had made her this way, it was definitely because of something extremely wrong.

Trepidation settled in my chest. Had she found out about the king’s decree? Had she been bullied about it because she was related to me?

Surely not, because the King had promised against it.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I signed with my hands, panic enveloping me as her sobs worsened. I wished I could get into her head at that moment; mind link her. But the damned skill couldn’t work with her. It was hopeless. “Did something happen to you?”

In-between teary hiccups, Fiona signed. I...I’m fine. It’s nothing. I’ll get over it.

It wasn’t nothing. She only wanted to keep it from me, but I wasn’t ready to let her

succeed.

“No, it’s obviously not okay, Fiona! Tell me, please!” I pleaded while signing.

I watched her try to pull herself together, releasing shaky breaths that quaked her body. Again, she slid both arms over her face to clean her tears and lowered her feet to the ground. I was growing impatient with every passing second.

I just...Her hand held mid-air, a wave of emotions flooding her eyes all over again, as if the memory of whatever had happened caused her more pain. The anticipation killed me.

Gilbert. She signed the name, torching my anxiety. What had happened to Gilbert? “What happened to him, Fiona?” I asked. “Tell me.”

Her glassy eyes peered at me, and a faint motherly concern reflected in her eyes. Forget about me and him. Are you okay, Leona? She asked.

“Of course I’m not!” I couldn’t hold myself from barking out. “How can I when you’re —”

The king, She stopped me midway, signing her words with unstable hands. She hesitated for a moment, before continuing. He didn’t just reject you, did he?

Dread lurched up my throat, rendering me wordless. She found out, as expected, and somehow it must be connected to the reason why she was this way.

What does the king’s rejection have to do with anything, Fiona? I signed, frustration etching my features. Tell me what happened with Gilbert!

As if it was some sort of trigger, heavy sadness regained control over her face, and she bit back her sobs. Something terrible must have happened to him. Or to the both of them.

Subconsciously, my eyes went down towards her fingers clasped over her thighs, and my breathing lapsed when I didn’t see her ring on the finger.

Something had definitely happened between her and Gilbert.

Acting on impulse, I grasped her left hand, nudging her to look at me.

“Fiona,” I stared into the depth of her eyes, nearly drowning in its sorrow. “Did Gilbert abandon you?”