Moreau blinked for a moment, almost unconsciously making a huffing sound.
"What did you make that cake for?" She even had to lose control when she finally asked the question. "It's Abi's birthday tomorrow. He didn't want a party, so I took the initiative to just give him a cake." That was quite a surprise. Moreau had received no hint of anything important from her stepfather. There was nothing conspicuous or she understood a little if it turned out that Abihirt did not have an enthusiastic attitude about tomorrow. "How old is he, if I may know?" asked Moreau just to make sure about some of the things she had outlined as conclusions. Maybe something was wrong, or it was just never the right guess. "33. Why?" Apparently it was supposed to be like that. She hadn't guessed wrong. It was also Barbara's birthday in a few months, so it was a reasonable calculation. "No, it's not. Just curious." Moreau thinned her lips unconsciously after sayThe faint clatter of someone's steps behind the door could be heard approaching. Added to that was the jingling of keys that gave away the information there. Someone was about to enter, but some of them had to be wary. Moreau glanced around but found nothing—all was dark, only a few acceptable candles lit. They needed to start the countdown, then when the time came... she would twist the bottom of the confetti popper vigorously. Three .... Two .... One .... The sound of loud popping and paper flying instantly spread throughout the place. "Happy age, Darling. I love you." Barbara's voice was the first to come to the surface after the dark room burst into flames. This was part of the woman's plan. Her husband had been asked to leave for some time with the involvement of Roger, who despite the doctor's refusal, eventually agreed to kidnap and return Abihirt at the appointed time. It was already late. However, they still surprised him in the
"It's getting late. Better get some sleep. I'm going to take a shower." Indeed, on the subject of water. Moreau should underline that the events of the day did not take too long. During the night, the flow had been very strong; just as in the morning, Abihirt had also used the hose to bathe Chicao. The man was now—no, just now—touching Barbara to give her a hint. "Why go straight to the room? Don't you want to eat your birthday cake first?" Her mother's question made Moreau hold her breath. It was instinctive, not caused by anything else. What was quite relevant could perhaps be related to Abihirt's current attitude. "I'll it that tomorrow." The man added as he walked away. Too cold to leave everyone almost transfixed, but also not trying to prevent. "I already told you. Aside from not liking parties, Abi is not interested in being surprised at all. You saw his expression earlier. You'd better disperse." Roger expressed such a statement as
However, Moreau even felt quite shocked imagining her mother's attitude later. Would Barbara eventually get angry, sue Abihirt and then they would fight; stirring things up unnaturally? That wouldn't have happened if one of them would have stepped aside from the argument. There is a validity to Moreau's point of view from her mother's point of view. It was difficult for Barbara to give in. In fact, it seemed impossible to quell the anger after all the effort had been wasted. Or perhaps it would all depend on how Abihirt finished the business left behind. The man had been willing to apologize to her. Maybe it wouldn't sound so bad to do the same for Barbara. Moreau knew in the end that would be the conclusion. There was nothing more and nothing to regret. It would be best if she closed her eyes. Try to sleep. Forget the inappropriate parts. Had neither Barbara nor Abihirt given her the right to comment on their relationship? She wouldn't say anything. The third per
"And why aren't you sleeping?" Such a question was one of the many thoughts that did not reach Moreau's mind. Her shoulders were tense with attention to anything, any detail that might involve Abihirt and how the man stopped short of giving a light touch. "I still don't want to sleep," Moreau said slowly. At least she created a pause around the air. Only the sound of breathing sometimes tried to interfere with things they didn't say. "Good then." Abihirt suddenly spoke too quietly. Moreau's eyebrows knitted together deeply then said, "What's good? I can't possibly serve you here." "I'm not in the mood for sex." There was also no warning that the man would unexpectedly pull Moreau's body onto the bed. An arm that felt solid instantly wrapped around her flat stomach. Questions immediately branched out. Hoping to find an answer as to why Abihirt was looking for something here, making an attempt to sleep, when the man could also take similar action ag
There was something odd. Moreau wished she could keep walking towards the kitchen table, where her mother was smiling happily with the man there, who had spent another night sleeping and then disappeared from civilization—even before she could shoo him away or at least suddenly jolt awake to face the unexpected fear. Moreau had to admit that things were very well organized. Just not much about what was relevant last night; certainly not what she would call odd. Not about the familiarity there, but the striking difference on her stepfather's face. Abihirt's jaw looked clean. It really was. How the new look made the man look much younger. She wondered... could this be influenced by last night's statement? Which then had a harsh effect when her stepfather finally decided to shave? Moreau felt like laughing at the comparison in her mind. It certainly wasn't true. She didn't want to be big-headed. Might as well try to be fair, walk closer, come over to the kitchen tabl
Moreau did not want to make eye contact any longer. She quickly looked down as she brought the bowl of stacked strawberries closer. The right amount of sourness and sweetness would be a complex blend—describing how the position here was. Again. Still playing the role of the third person who has to watch her mother and stepfather connect too closely. Suddenly Barbara's cell phone on the dining table vibrated. The woman turned her head briefly. A slight smile was revealed there, although there was something serious that should have been understood immediately, but her mother did not. Moreau had trouble swallowing the piece of cake down her throat as she studied every detail of the expression on Abihirt's face. "I'll go to the backyard first, Darling. Wait here for a moment. The appointment won't be long." As if in a hurry then Barbara dropped a light peck on her husband's jaw. Moreau unconsciously thinned her lips when she realized how cold Abihirt's expression was,
This would be the last day in the countryside. The noon was for a bit of relaxing, and the afternoon would be about making preparations; packing clothes into suitcases or various other necessities. Moreau didn't think it was a bad idea, but it was a little odd after a breakfast that was too much of a surprise. She had not noticed Abihirt's presence since the last time the man had left the kitchen. Barbara hadn't said anything either, other than seemingly wandering around with a cell phone in hand. Like she was too busy. Just too much and suddenly ended up here. Sitting across from her, though Moreau didn't make a sound. Only occasionally found the woman smiling happily. She quickly looked down, absentmindedly swiping through the phone screen. Juan didn't look like he was going to reply to the message just yet; just now... Moreau sent a photo of the view from the green grass. Perhaps it intrigued her a little to open her stepfather's profile. Abihirt had been ina
"You're still silencing me, Uncle. I'm sorry about Moreau. But, can you not remove my name from the list of big project holders? It makes me a little less concentrated, since I won't get the chance to take a step forward. You should understand... I did everything because—" Froy wasn't quite sure if this was the right time to reveal what had recently been the root of his problems. However, a copy of the email had confirmed some parts as disastrous. All because of the incident in the kitchen that day. He had let it go. Too excited. Regretted not listening to his mother's advice. Now... what he was trying to fix had already reached a point that could not be controlled. It was hard to persuade an uncle who was too cold. Abihirt didn't even show the slightest interest in turning around, busy feeding his dogs—something that disgusted Froy a little. He took a deep breath. Struggling to be patient, but as of now, it seemed that Abihirt was still not interested in initiati