ISLA’S POV:
The hallway was quiet save for the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath my feet. I had been heading to the kitchen for a moment of peace, maybe a cup of tea to calm my nerves, when I heard Saraya’s voice coming from Evan’s room.
It wasn’t her usual tone. There was an edge to it, a strange mix of urgency and desperation. My steps slowed, and I hovered outside the slightly ajar door.
“Evan, please,” Saraya was saying, her voice low but pleading. “You have to believe me.”
My brows furrowed. What is going on?
“D-don’t… t-touch me!” Evan’s voice came next, shaky but loud, and full of anger. The boy rarely raised his voice. Whatever had happened must have deeply upset him.
I pushed the door open without knocking.
Both of them froze. Evan stood stiffly by his bed, his face red and tear-streaked, while Saraya stood a few steps away, her hands raised as though trying to calm him down.
The sight was enough to make my chest tighten.
“Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
Saraya flinched, her gaze darting to Evan and then back to me. “Grandma,” she said quickly, forcing a strained smile. “It’s nothing, really. Just a little… misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” I repeated, crossing my arms. “From the looks of it, it seems to be more than that.”
Evan’s lips trembled as he tried to form words, his fists clenched at his sides. He glanced at Saraya, then at me, I could tell his expression reads disappointment.
“Evan?” I said softly, stepping toward him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“S-she…” he began, his voice breaking. “S-sneaky!”
Saraya moved quickly, cutting him off. “Evan’s upset because I… I didn’t keep a promise,” she said smoothly, stepping between us.
I raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “What promise?” I asked.
She hesitated for the briefest of moments before speaking. “I promised I’d spend more time with him, play games, and I haven’t been doing that. He’s right to be mad at me, so I’m trying to make it up to him.”
Evan shook his head, his lips pressing tightly together, but he didn’t argue.
I studied Saraya’s face, searching for cracks in her story. Something about her explanation felt too convenient, too rehearsed.
“Is that true, Evan?” I asked, shifting my gaze to him.
He avoided my eyes, his hands twitching at his sides. “M-maybe,” he mumbled, barely audible.
I frowned but didn’t push further. Evan wasn’t in a state to explain himself clearly, and Saraya wasn’t willing to spill the story as well.
Saraya stepped closer, her voice softening. “I promise I’ll do better, Grandma. I’ll make it up to him.”
For a moment, I said nothing, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably between us. Finally, I sighed and shook my head.
“Fine,” I said, though my tone was more dismissive than accepting. “But, Saraya, you’re not a child anymore. If you make a promise to your brother, you keep it. He deserves better than your half-measures.” I chastised her with the tone of voice a pitch higher.
Her face flushed slightly, but she nodded. “I understand.”
“Good,” I said curtly, turning to Evan. “Come find me later, darling, okay?” I patted his shoulder. “You know granny keeps to her words, right?” I asked with sarcasm written all over my face.
He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.
I turned to leave, but as I stepped into the hallway, I glanced back at Saraya. Something about her face stopped me-a flicker of defiance in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she held herself, like she was always balancing on the edge of a secret.
And then it struck me.
There was something about Saraya’s face that reminded me of her mother. Not in the softness of her features or the curve of her smile-no, it was in the way she looked when she thought no one was watching. That same slyness, that air of someone who thought they could get away with anything.
I clenched my jaw, the old anger rising in my chest like bile.
Saraya’s mother had been a whore-unashamed and reckless, always chasing pleasure without regard for the lives she ruined. It had taken years to pick up the pieces of what that woman had shattered.
Now, looking at Saraya, I wondered if the apple hadn’t fallen too far from the tree.
I shook my head and walked away, muttering to myself as I headed for the kitchen.
“The same blood runs deep,” I whispered. “Let’s hope she doesn’t ruin anything around here.”