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 tablMoreau 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
Froy swallowed harshly while glancing at Abihirt's shoulder and Chicao's body in turn. His uncle didn't even turn around as he spoke, as if making eye contact was something he avoided. The question just now seemed to Froy like an original template, and he had to find a way to get rid of the remaining parts—still so high between them. Now he had found a promising prospect. At least thinking that there would be a full confession from Abihirt. Fuck as he started to step, but that only drew Abihirt's attention to turn his head. Let his uncle witness everything that was about to be done. Froy immediately grasped the axe. This was indeed too crazy. A sardonic grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew Abihirt had detected anything—being a possibility between them and probably considered the closest prospect as impossible. "Perhaps your beloved dog will cure you of your amnesia about your and Moreau's relationship, Uncle. You stood at the window and silently wa
Froy slowly took a step back, still staring at Abihirt a foot away from him, but not a single ounce of courage to take action; other than to continue the remaining steps ahead at a fast trot. "Froy!" Abihirt hissed in pain without ever leaving a trace of the back's existence in the distance. Froy never looked back until his body turned the corner and was lost between the walls of the house. Insolent bastard. There was always worse and the man had just declared chaos. Abihirt's fingers immediately grazed the wound on his shoulder, it felt like it was leaving a shock to the tense nerves. With his throat moving faintly, he silently watched the thick viscous liquid. It would be bad news when he ran out of blood so much, soon walking tentatively—after all, he had to, leaving Chicao there. The barking of dogs could be heard, but Abihirt continued to walk while holding on to the wall of the house. Legs that were already much better would bring Chicao merely follow
When Abihirt was about to open the door to the room, Moreau found her mother speaking up immediately. "Sit on the sofa first, you're bleeding a lot." The woman's hand gesture looked disgusted as it touched her own husband's arm. Barbara did not like the smell of blood. Especially if the deep red stain had made an impact on the tips of her fingernails. Fortunately, Abihirt didn't say anything else. Seemed to have gotten used to it. The serious anticipation in Barbara regarding the situation here was not a big surprise. "What happened?" This time Gloriya's voice surfaced. No idea where the woman appeared from, but her expression was no less frightened after noticing Abihirt's poor condition. Those gray eyes were even staring very intently. Froy was suspected to be the main culprit. As a mother Gloriya had to understand that there was a limit to the tolerance that the woman could not continue to give. "Your favorite son just did something bad to his uncle.
Again. Gloriya didn't give up. Trying to push, even though everything Abihirt did was too quiet. The man's pent-up emotions seemed to be within the bounds of normal handling. Gloriya would not find anything else beyond a brief accomplishment. The fact that Abihirt had no interest in simply saying something was the worst problem. Probably should have waited. Confused. Wishing for something to not actually happen. Moreau glanced around when she realized her mother had returned. The woman was carrying a soaking container along with a soaked cloth. Bending down, the object was immediately placed on the table. "Can you do this, Moreau?" An unexpected question required Moreau to blink several times. It took her a moment to understand her mother's implied request. "Me?" She asked engulfed in a swarm of memories about her mother's principles. Of things to avoid and... no more words were spoken other than beckoning eye contact. Moreau immediately tucked her long
It was a good thing that Abihirt understood not to leave an impression. The man turned half a face away, trying to stare at the wound behind the shoulder accompanied by a pale color that was quite alarming. "Next time try to put yourself first. What if Froy were to fatally wound a part of your body? I can't imagine what would happen. Gloriya can't you call Froy and tell him to come here?" All of Barbara's advice ended with a solution that the woman wanted to solve. Perhaps it should be that way. Moreau didn't want to interfere with matters that were tied up, while she would also find Gloriya sighing in despair. She shook her head vaguely, as if thinking of the best words. "I'll try to contact Froy. But Abi, can you drop the idea of reporting him to prison?" Indecision and the intention to negotiate were what Gloriya needed right now. Froy's mistake was fatal, though it seemed the woman still wanted to mount a defense. "That boy deserves a lesson."