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Josephine selects a plate of food and carries it to the kitchen bar, settling a seat away from Nyla once more.
It is early the next day.
"The hat actually considered putting me in Slytherin," Josie responds to Nyla's question as she takes a small sip of her coffee. She practically poured the whole sugar jar into it, but... oh well.
"I think Serena was fully Slytherin," Nyla muses. "I'm not entirely sure, though. We wern't super close at first."
Josephine raises her brows in question. She wants to know them, to understand Serena and Aspen desperately.
Yet, her heart still aches at the realization that she will never truly know them, only through stories.
She suspects Nyla must feel pity for her; she heard Nyla crying last night.
But she chooses to pretend she hasn't heard anything.
Nyla's entire world was turned upside down.
The man they are supposed to trust got her sister killed.
Josie wants revenge, does crave it.
Maybe Nyla does too.
But Josephine will never disclose anything about her involvement to Nyla. It is too dangerous.
"Mine and Serena's parents... wern't the best. They often pitted us against each other. We hated each other for many years," Nyla's voice holds a tone of longing and sadness.
As if she would do anything to go back to those years, even if they are filled with hate, because at least Serena would still be alive.
Josephine understands more than she probably should. She comprehends that her longing for her parents to be alive usually means she would be dead instead.
Perhaps it isn't natural to accept death at only sixteen.
Josephine doesn't dwell on it for long before a door opens. "Mother! Where are you?!" a female voice yells.
Nyla's eyes widen, and both she and Josie turn in their seats.
A girl enters the living room but halts at the sight of Josephine. It is the same girl from those photographs: light brown curly hair reaching her collarbones, dark thin brows, and brown eyes.
She is undeniably beautiful.
"Mother..." the young girl, Evie, trails off. "Don't tell me you kidnapped someone."
Nyla shoots her daughter a glare, a playful glint in her eyes. "She's here willingly," is all she says.
Evie narrows her eyes slightly, but then a man walks in right behind her. He too stops at the sight of Josie.
Josephine picks at her nails under the table. The man is around the same age as Nyla, with slight balding.
"Maybe I should explain," Nyla smiles at them both. "But later, I'm hungry now."
