After a while, Cedric glanced up from his reading, his gaze meeting hers with a quiet intensity that locked Marisol into place. She froze, waiting for his next course of action or words, but nothing came. Instead, Cedric returned to his book, like he'd only just looked up to confirm her presence.
"You're free to go," he said this time, not looking up from his book, a tone void of emotion.
Marisol's heart sank at his words, a pang of regret coursing through her veins. She knew she should say something, anything to alleviate the tension between them, but the words eluded her. Instead, she remains standing stupidly, grappling with the overwhelming guilt that threatened to consume her.
"I know you need to check on your friend," he spoke again, his voice softening ever so slightly. "You're not a prisoner here. If you choose not to return, that's your decision to make, too."