The responsibility

"Esme, wake up," Silas called out softly, pushing aside the curtains to allow the morning light to pour in.

"Mm." Esme, who was still fast asleep, winced at the sudden brightness and turned her face away. She continued sleeping, ignoring him. 

Silas chuckled. With a contented sigh, he watched her, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of her peaceful form nestled in the bed.

"Wake up, sleepy head." He sat down beside her, his fingers trailing tenderly through her hair. 

"Just a little longer," she mumbled. "It's too early."

Silas kissed her head. His next words, a husky whisper of "I am going out," sliced through the fog of sleep.

Her eyes snapped open, squinting against the sudden light. Her sleepiness vanished when she saw him dressed up in his formal attire. 

"Where are you going so early?" she asked, a tremor of concern lacing her voice.

"Dad called me urgently," he explained, his hand still stroking her hair.