Opportunity for explanation

Flora lay sprawled on the cluttered floor, surrounded by the shattered remnants of a glass table lamp. Each fragment resembled an irreparable map. She moaned softly, half-reclined, and extended her left hand, gingerly pressing it against the fragments. Suddenly, crimson lines marred her once-pale palm.

Rowan stood there, her gaze fixed on Flora's actions, though she still found the strength to critique herself. At times, it was unclear whether she was genuinely in discomfort or just feigning it; regardless, it was less alarming than it seemed.

"Rowan! Rowan, open the door quickly!" David Fat David's voice on the other side of the door quivered with anxiety. The crashing of the low table and lamp had been deafening, causing him to fear for Rowan's safety alone in the room.

Voices other than David's father's began to filter in from outside the door. Although they were indistinct, they seemed to be the servants, drawn by the commotion.

Rowan was briefly stupefied but soon snapped back to