HAZEL
My father stood by Fia’s mother’s grave, talking on his phone with his back to me. He looked gaunt, his suit hanging awkwardly on his thin frame. Sunlight hit his face, making his features look even sharper.
I didn’t care.
My phone felt heavy in my hand, the camera app still open. He had nearly caught me taking a photo of the headstone. He almost turned around at the worst moment while I crouched, trying to capture the name, dates, and the small carved rose at the top.
That would have been inconvenient.
This was the last shit on my list. I had already sat through my mother’s sobbing and her loud, messy crying that seemed to last forever. Delta had picked up the aphrodisiac while I pretended to mourn a grandmother I had only met twice. Both times, she looked at me like I was just an unfortunate event in her daughter’s life.
Which I suppose I was.
My father ended the call. His shoulders dropped, and he tucked the phone into his jacket pocket before turning around. His eyes found mine immediately.
I softened my expression, trying to look concerned but hopeful, the way daughters were supposed to when their fathers seemed upset.
"How did it go?" I kept my voice gentle.
He walked closer and stopped a few feet away. His gaze drifted past me toward the rows of headstones stretching out across the manicured grass.
"She still holds grievances." The words came out tired. Defeated in a way that would have bothered me if I’d had any intention of this working. "But I’ll keep trying."
Of course, it wouldn’t work. It could never work, because Fia wasn’t stupid... not anymore at least, and father’s apology had probably sounded exactly as hollow as it was.
I stepped forward and put my hand on his arm. The gesture felt practiced, because it was.
"Don’t take it to heart." I squeezed his sleeve. "She needs time, but it’ll work out in the end."
His expression changed. Maybe it was gratitude that flickered across his face. He wanted to believe me so much that it made everything almost too easy.
"You should go back to Mother." I dropped my hand and took a small step back. "She needs you right now."
He nodded slowly. Then his eyes focused on me again with a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.
"Will you be coming soon?"
"Of course."
The lie slipped out easily. I had already said goodbye to my mother in my head in the sense that I had mentally checked out of that conversation. I had already sat through her display of grief and nodded at all the right moments while she talked about how good, beautiful, and talented her mother was.
My father turned and walked away. His footsteps made soft sounds against the gravel path. I waited until he disappeared around the bend before I pulled my phone back out.
The camera app opened with a quiet click. I angled the screen toward the headstone and lined up the shot.
"What are you doing?"
The voice came from directly behind me. Male and familiar enough to make my spine stiffen before my mind caught up with recognition.
Then his scent reached me—sandalwood mixed with something darker that made my throat dry. I swallowed and pushed the feeling away before turning around.
Lysander stood there with his hands in his pockets. The afternoon light caught in his hair, making it look almost bronze instead of the usual dark brown. His expression gave nothing away.


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