Moreau did not understand what kind of purpose Abihirt had when the man told a false statement. Barbara was not looking for her at all. Instead, it was unfair to make accusations out of thin air.
Barbara mentioned that she was only seeking attention by deliberately coming over while the woman was talking about something with Gloriya, to which Roger added between them. However, after all... that was a few hours ago. Gloriya's birthday celebrations had even been finalized with most of her stepfather's family having left the countryside. Only a few remained, who had been involved in making preparations from the start. Like her mother who indirectly became part of the family. "Where are you going this afternoon?" There was a beautiful meadow, but Moreau felt no need to answer Barbara's question explicitly. She just stared at the woman for a while before finally summing up the short statement at the top of her head. "I'd like to take a"Your father is waiting, Chicao." While kneeling, Moreau did not forget to add a light stroke on the top of Chicao's head. The dog's tongue stuck out. Had she been able to reveal a more specific expression, she might have been able to tell that the well-groomed animal was showing excitement. Every now and then, Moreau took the determined action of glancing at a spot over there. It seemed sudden when her stepfather unexpectedly spoke with someone on the other side of the phone. No idea when. It was good that Abihirt would not pay attention to them. Now there would be some leeway until the man's business was done. Moreau was soon walking fast, half running, letting Chicao catch up with her and they stopped at the edge of the lake. There were no ripples in the water. It was a completely still surface, refracting the remaining shadows of the skyline along with the leaves of the large trees. "We'll stay here, Chicao." Patting the surfac
"Where is the bracelet Abi gave you?" Barbara's question was the most surprising part of Moreau's day as she still faced the need to wash the dishes. Never having realized that the woman would observe the details of her body, to the point of asking questions, she herself did not know when the chain bracelet Abihirt had given her disappeared from civilization. Perhaps it was during times when Moreau was doing heavy work, which always involved hand movements, or perhaps she was too careless to simply keep something on her wrist. Not knowing if the man would be angry if she told him this, because Abihirt didn't seem to have any serious interest in talking, making contact, etc. to anyone he met, even during dinner. Blinking. Moreau tried to remember the last time she realized the bracelet the man had given her was still on her hand. However, no matter how far she tried. It seemed too impossible to find any clues. There was nothing left from all the effort of searching
"Moreau, can I ask you a favor?" Gloriya came in carrying a piece of cloth folded in her arms. The woman looked hurried as she moved her lips again, then said something, "Froy asked me to bring him a dry towel. Can you do this for me?" How could she refuse? Moreau looked at the woman skeptically, but lacked the full courage to lay out what she was sure was not the best part of meeting Froy at a time like this. Similarly, this was no surprise. Froy swimming past nine in the evening was a habit Moreau had always recognized. "Why me, Auntie?" At first, she cautiously asked the question. Gloriya had her own conclusions, it shouldn't be difficult if the woman finally spelled out an answer. A faint smile had emphasized the situation between them, something that made Moreau wait with a sense of tension, but it wouldn't rule for too long when Gloriya moved her lips faintly. "I have to take a call from my friend. Asking your mother for help... I don't thi
"I know you will always have my best interests at heart." Froy's voice was punctuated by a ragged breath. The man's lips were half-open, looking slick under the light. Occasionally, the same wet fingers moved the remaining hair in front of his forehead back. Fortunately, it did not test Moreau's ability to restrain hersf. She was not interested. Completely reluctant to think even a little about their irrelevant business. Froy was far too confident for the man to take her actions as serious business. "I'm here because of your mother," Moreau emphasized, so the man would know and not try to make a futile approach. She intended to leave this place as soon as possible. Leaving behind a conversation that would trap her between complicated choices. "You're in a hurry." Suddenly, Froy said that. It should not have stopped Moreau if the man had not accidentally created another sound. Splashing water. She turned away and sure enough... suddenly a splash landed direct
There was a long pause, making Moreau think that the situation might have been in her favor. She would use whatever Froy's reaction was as a basis to simply study the irony between them. Unfortunately, there was still another irony, one that left things uncertain as Froy clucked lazily, as if wanting to vent about a choice Moreau had made and the man had not agreed to face. "You don't want us to be friends because you're afraid you won't get over me." Froy always echoed similar words as the most influential opinion, but it was not. There was a validity that had been so obvious as to be merely a source of knowledge. However, Moreau could not possibly elaborate. It would be useless. It wouldn't change Froy's mindset. She took a harsh breath feeling that their chance to talk was over, never knowing that Froy would suddenly pull her up and carry their bodies into the pool. The sound of splashing water was an inevitable clue. Cold instantly became a rush o
"What are you and Froy doing in the pool?" Moreau's breath caught as if it needed to prevent it from staying stuck in the middle of her throat, while the urge to jump up and be completely still, transfixed, facing the source of the voice with a sense of tension, was the most horrible option. She had just stepped into the room soaking wet. The need to simply strip off the wet cloths on her body was suddenly discouraged. Abihirt had given no hint of appearing, but the man had been so close. In fact, that they were trapped in the same room together. There was nothing Moreau could find behind her stepfather's gray eyes, though Abihirt seemed to have kept various things on the man's mind. A look that resembled a cynic as if he was dispensing justice. However, Moreau did not understand what they needed to emphasize. About Froy's unpleasant behavior, really, things were out of control., "What are you doing here?" Instead of talking about something that seemed
It was said with barely any knowledge in Moreau's mind. Abihirt had never broached the subject in the first place. Never if she struggled to remember anymore. Now, suddenly it all felt shocking, like letting a drop of blood become a map on a blank canvas. There was no way to drag out an agreement. They schemed; yes, at least another word described the scene of betrayal. "What do you want, Abi?" Moreau folded her arms across her chest. About to confirm for herself one of her stepfather's serious intentions by asking a question with little understanding of the prohibition the man had just declared. "You'll never really know what I want." However, it would be useless if Abihirt would end up forming another conundrum and not try to tell more. Moreau raised one eyebrow high. Deliberately leaving that as the first reaction. Let the next take over, since that part was already a distance away from disrupting the most organized; let's talk about something relevant.
"Froy is not a child anymore. I will not defend him." An oddly implied tone behind Abihirt's deep, raspy voice. Moreau almost squinted as she silently searched for an answer. However, not everyone was good at breaking through something so solidly there. This was what it felt like when things felt unusually suspended. "Then why are you accusing me?" Perhaps a fishing question would help a little. Moreau was interested in challenging a grown man's temper, or perhaps—on special confession—that she took an interest in her stepfather's passion. Knew that Abihirt was struggling with restraint. It was barely revealed, as if a brief discipline had been signaled against trying to put black ink between their decisions. Suddenly, all was tense as Moreau realized there was no sense of humor behind her stepfather's shoulders. Not now or ever. The man was really staring. Detailing a picture of a sadist. "You are under the influence of rules and should obey whatever h