In the meantime, I'm working on my other Jerpahina story, "Learning to be Strong Alone". Check it out if you enjoy angst and Jeraphina! I assure you, the first few chapters aren't the best, but it really does get better as it goes along. Enjoy reading!
There is 30+ 1500 word chapters!
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My left eye twitched at the sudden mention of his name; I was expecting it, to be honest, but it still startled me—knocking out the only focus remaining in my tired mind. It's like when you're in a haunted house; you know you're gonna get jumped, but you're always still startled when you scream.
Of course, Leilah had decided to convey him into the conversation; she was never happy with what had gone down between us. I suppose she still held a small grudge against me—maturely deciding not to keep it against my children.
"Oh," I stated, eyes returning back to their normal size, the surprise that contorted them becoming hidden behind my acting. "How interesting." I tried to remain disinterested in what she had to say—successfully managing such a tone.
My hands picked up the pile of clothes folded by Leilah for me when I returned. I always shower and get dressed into my nightwear before I play with the kids—I'm always so exhausted after work, so not for long.
The purple-haired girl sighed as I began to leave, the children not noticing my shock and deciding to play elsewhere in the house . . . all except Keira. She sat there quietly sipping a cup of water.
"He's an actor too, isn't he mommy. That's what Leilah said."
I looked back at my daughter and sister, jerking a brow at the elder of the two. "Did she now?" I asked the small child, watching Leilah as she took a sip of the tea she had made prior.
Leilah nodded, staring down at her drink. "I did," she said, tea running down her throat and eyes looking back up at me, "but no more than that, Sera. There was nothing more that I should tell. He is just a stranger, after all, isn't he?"
My lips made a small movement and pursed at her comment, both the two who sat at the table with their pupils drilling straight into my worn-through soul.
"You certainly are right about that, Leilah," I said, playing along with her mind games and placing a free hand on the white-painted frame of the open door, "There's nothing more that should be told. And he is . . . just, a, stranger."
"That's not what I said," she interjected.
I glared at her as she subtly defended her position, "But it's what you meant." With that said, I made my way from the door to get dressed, leaving the other two to sit in the residue of our almost unnoticeable argument.
