Only For Elira

{Zenon}

~**^**~

I watched her flee.

Tears had already gathered in her eyes before she rose from her chair, but it wasn't until she turned that I saw the first one fall—and something sharp twisted inside my chest.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain seated. Across the table, Father's gaze was still on the doorway where she had disappeared.

Lennon and Rennon were already half-risen, pushing back their chairs with scraped wood against marble.

They went after her.

But I stayed.

My spoon hovered over my plate, but my appetite was gone. The food tasted bland, foreign, despite being the same breakfast I've had for years.

It wasn't guilt. Or so I told myself.

I didn't hate Elira. I never did.

At least, that was the truth, even though she might think otherwise.

I just didn't accept what she meant.