The living room hummed with the scrape of plates in the kitchen, the muffled clatter of Rita and Mia bustling with leftovers.

  On the couch, an unnatural stillness stretched between Seraphine and Marco— tight as a pulled string, silent as held breath.

  Marco cleared his throat, pretending casual curiosity.

  “So… what happened to you after you graduated high school?” He leaned back, outwardly relaxed, but every muscle too tight. “You never came back. Not even once.”

  Seraphine set her hands neatly on her lap.

  She met his gaze. Just long enough to make him fret before he looked away.

  “A nice couple took me in,” she said lightly, as if describing a lucky scholarship. “They employed me as a maid. Funded my schooling.” She smiled almost fondly. “I took care of them. We took care of each other.”

  Marco nodded slowly. Even he could feel the lie—or the missing pieces—lurking under that pretty sentence.

  “And I was busy,” she added. “School… work… everything. So I never had time to visit.”

  Marco swallowed hard. He wanted to ask so many things: Were you okay? Did anyone hurt you? Did you forgive us? But the words choked before they reached his tongue.

  Because deep down, he already knew the answers.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Before he could push past the fear, Seraphine spoke again—sweet and sudden.

  “Your daughter,” she said, turning her head just slightly, “she’s adorable.”

  Marco’s eyes flicked up to hers.

  For a second, the old cousin dynamic returned— warm, innocent, uncomplicated.

  His shoulders loosened.

  “Yeah,” he exhaled with a soft smile. “She’s growing so fast.”

  Seraphine’s smile widened. “She looks just like you did when you were young.”

  Marco grinned automatically. That compliment always warmed him— and for a tiny moment, he believed they really were just catching up.

  Then Seraphine added, voice velvet-smooth: “Ten years old, right?”

  Marco froze. Completely.

  His smile collapsed. The blood drained from his face.

  Seraphine’s didn’t fade at all. “So young,” she continued softly. “So… untouched.” Her eyes glittered, watching the terror bloom behind his pupils.

  Marco’s throat clicked as he swallowed. He couldn’t look away now.

  Seraphine leaned forward a fraction— not threatening, but close enough for her next words to sink deep.

  “I hope,” she said quietly, “I hope you always protect her.”

  A request. A reminder. A warning. A blade hidden behind pearls.

  Marco opened his mouth— to deny, to defend, to swear something, anything—

  But before a single syllable escaped his lips—

  “Daddy! Aunt Sera!”

  Mia burst from the kitchen with Rita behind her, carrying dessert plates and happy chatter.

  The tension shattered like glass under a hammer.

  Marco plastered a smile back on his face so hard it hurt.

  Rita settled beside Seraphine, excitedly resuming stories. Mia clambered onto her father’s lap, bunny tucked under her arm.

  Seraphine nodded and laughed at all the right moments, mask flawless once more.

  But Marco kept glancing her way— stealing looks he wished he didn’t have to make— and every time he blinked, he saw his daughter’s wide innocent eyes overlaying the memory of a small girl he and his father had cornered in dark rooms.

  And Seraphine?

  She just smiled.

  Beautiful. Warm. Patient.

  Because she had waited more than a decade for this moment.

  And she could wait a little longer.