Mara
“I would’ve believed you, Martha,” I said, gently moving closer, “if you didn’t have tears in your eyes right now.”
She froze, caught between pride and pain.
“Why did you come back to Mooncrest City if not for him?” I asked softly. “You wanted to be close enough to know how he’s doing… and whether he’s moved on.”
She didn’t deny it.
“I’ll spare you the trouble of wondering,” I continued. “He hasn’t. Not even close.”
Her eyes shimmered, and I could see the truth in them, she was listening now.
“He barely speaks. He drinks too much. His beard is wild. His hair’s a mess. He comes to breakfast in the same pyjamas every morning and locks himself in his room all day.”
I paused. My voice dropped.
“He’s lost weight. And we’re starting to worry about his mental health.”
Tears spilled
