Moreau looked at her stepfather skeptically. The man should have understood the hint she had given. It was not like this; plunging their secret scandal into a big hole to explode with the truce bomb placed inside.
She wanted to be angry, but it was useless. Moreau would not be able to do anything more serious when Barbara was still showing a despondent expression, even though the woman had marked her as an easy target... if only, knowing something more serious right now. "What were you doing in Moreau's room?" Another question was soon detailed. Moreau did not even want to look at Abihirt's face, whether the man had gathered instant answers or simply had no real expression to avoid the age-old problem-still a terrible mess. "Returning the bracelet that fell in the courtyard outside." It all happened so suddenly. Moreau flinched slightly, then instinctively looked down at her wrist. Something that must not be forgotten. It was Abihirt, who had"Since you're still here, why not help me with something in the kitchen?" Moreau winced slightly, detecting that she would not be able to refuse. Gloriya's smile had already portrayed something of hope, especially when the woman extended a hand to simply guide their steps into a room with a special arrangement. Various raw cooking ingredients had filled the entire kitchen table. Something was missing and she still hadn't found the closest clue. "What's the occasion, Auntie?" This time Moreau asked a question, at least to water the curiosity that was stuck on the edge. Unusual. It seemed too sudden and she had to pay attention to whatever was in front of them. "Your mom said she wanted to throw a barbecue party. So, this is what we're doing. We'll have a big meal tonight." That sounded like fun. Moreau instinctively widened her smile. In a pure gesture, she tried to take a look at the contents of the grocery plastic; whether Barbara had forgotten her fa
"You've been waiting for it all this time. Here's yours, sweet girl." Roger's glare at least made Moreau unable to refrain from bursting into laughter. The man had been busy in front of the grill, smelling of smoke, accompanying Abihirt who didn't say much, but that was how they mingled; not to leave a suspicious impression, so Barbara could casually carry on a conversation with Gloriya on the terrace. The women were preparing the spices-now it was time to rest. Moreau should have done the same. However, she decided to engage in the busiest activities, such as currently holding a tray of three plates with a few pieces of cooked meat, and the rest at Gloriya and Barbara's request. "Thank you, Chef Roger. You were very gracious tonight." She added as she prepared to leave the two grown men there. There was no intention of insinuating Abihirt. The words came out of nowhere and she did not expect the gray eyes to stare at her for a moment. It was too short. Perhaps Mo
Impatiently, Moreau's arms moved to simply slice the rib meat into pieces. She would leave the most tender ones for the end. Now it was necessary to add Gloriya's homemade chili sauce on the side, despite feeling even hungrier as she inhaled the aroma that wafted across the surface deeply. The first mouthful was engulfed in a peaceful sweep like the explosion of a worn-out sensation, but Moreau barely felt it. As if the word busy was the first to describe if—then... there was hardly an agenda like this on Barbara's bucket list. It was only when the woman returned to marriage that a desire was awakened so briefly. Still with the need to chew, savoring the various touches that exploded. Moreau circulated her gaze to trace every corner of the place. The conversation between Barbara and Gloriya did not seem to be ending soon. She wasn't interested enough in just finding out, immediately moving her attention to Abihirt's form there. The man was no longer in front of t
Was Barbara willing to believe? Or had she been caught in the act of staring at Abihirt almost unblinkingly? Here's hoping those two parts are nothing. Yes, they were. Moreau hoped it wasn't. It wasn't something in her that was letting go. She didn't want to face a big problem, even if there was already a crack that needed to be patched. Supposedly walking without attracting the attention of a few people... was more than enough. Moreau instinctively tucked a lock of hair behind her ear in an attempt to calm half the tension. They were already so close. Maybe one or two steps away. The woman's sharp expression evoked horrible things in the top of her head. Trying not to stare directly was the right choice. "Where are you going? I see you haven't finished your food yet. Don't bring your habits at home to this place." Moreau's body instantly jerked. An exhale almost resembled something harsh, hanging at the tip of her throat as she and Barbara made eye contact
"What are you doing here?" She asked skeptically, adding a bit of anticipation considering the man's basic demeanor was powered by real sources. Froy had declared a monstrous desire—which would quickly become a food chain scourge. It was a miracle if Moreau still had a single functioning nerve until tonight to deal with things; it sickened her to no end. "This is the kitchen. Anyone has the right to come here." That was Froy's statement. Calm, but somewhat sarcastic. There was a way to learn how to convey objections with subtle expressions. By the time the man did so, Moreau was hoping Froy would understand the bitterest part of irony. "When did you get to the countryside?" She was just trying not to send something home by pulling it up, then throwing it over a cliff. Whatever if it turned out that Froy had a specific purpose in mind, it was best that the man not do anything out of the blue. "Just now, it happened to coincide when you stepped into the h
"Why, Froy?" "What does that have to do with you?" "You once cheated on me behind my back." "I told you, we have no relationship. Why are you trying so hard to be a good ex? Or is it because when we were dating... you never had genuine intentions for me, but thought that I would fall as deeply as you imagined. So, you feel that I should never forget you so quickly?" It was already too long. Moreau understood that she had to restrain herself even realizing that the torrent that escaped her lips had made Froy's face turn dark. The man's eyes were also staring intently, as if he only needed to prepare himself to release all his pent-up effort. No. Absolutely no! Moreau would not let Froy do anything. She quickly got up, not caring if she had to leave everything here. There was no hope that they could talk things out very well. Just take a step and forget there had ever been a conversation or an attack that came close to being freely parsed. M
Their power was not matched and even with Froy locking down the movement of her legs—Moreau could not attack from any direction. She hoped someone would come to her aid. Hoping someone would come to give the insolent bastard right now, right here, an instant lesson. Hoping things would come to a head and be taken into consideration. Froy had crossed the line of uncertain ambition. Too bold. Crazy. And yet, not sane enough to realize it immediately. His actions were not one of many ways to get better. It was truly shameful. Moreau seemed not to want to hear when the man said again. "When Uncle Abi held your hand in the office basement that day, I already felt very strange. It's even stranger that your mother and my uncle are married. What kind of coincidence, Moreau? Shouldn't you not be holding hands?" "Your uncle grabbed my hand, because he probably felt you were making me uncomfortable. You've always been like that. I'm already his stepdaughter, it's only natura
Enough would never be enough, for Moreau had witnessed first-hand how Abihirt had lost control. She would never be able to stop the man from trying to be a deterrent. Her stepfather continued to concentrate on anger, as if it were a rodent, and it would be a painful feeling to try to break free of such a tight squeeze. Just be a little thankful that Roger arrived on time with the others. Moreau no longer knew how she would think of Barbara's reaction. It all seemed chaotic, a little unnerving when it took so much effort for Roger to separate Abihirt. Indeed... at least the man had succeeded, but there was a serious—unreadable—depiction of Abihirt's breathing; it was unavoidable, like a pendulum held too long, and next Roger had to offer Froy a favor so that all the makeup on the face—which had almost lost its mind, could be divided into several parable maps. In the end, no one can explain what Froy looks like now. Bruised, red, bloody, all such a complete mix that