Chapter 11


Forty minutes after Cyran went upstairs, he returned just as the woman set two plates on the table. It was a shame that Cyran returned with a shirt because I had to admit that the sight of him without one was enjoyable. I noticed that his mood had changed as well, reminding me that he was bipolar.

“Come eat.” He ordered as if I were some sort of dog that would do what they were told.

I thought about telling him off, but my stomach betrayed me before I could. To make it known that I wasn’t listening to him willingly, I grumbled as I made my way to the table. Sitting down at the table, I began eating immediately.

“Well, that isn’t very nice. The least you could do is thank her for cooking before you start plowing food into your mouth.”

With a mouth full of eggs, I looked up at Cyran who happened to be glowering at me. Chewing what was in my mouth, I forced myself to swallow. Gripping my fork tightly in my hand, as if I were holding a knife, I wondered if I could move fast enough
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