SERAPHINA
“I’m not hungry.”
I was ready to bolt, but then a hand landed on my thigh, stopping me with a warning squeeze.
My mother was all smiles across the table, her voice syrupy as she pretended to care and said, “You should eat more, Phina. You’ll need your strength.”
“She sure will,” Dante said, his fingers digging into my thigh and making my whole body clench in fear of what he will do.
I realised the table had gone silent, and when I looked up I found both my mother and his father were staring at Dante. He smiled as he added, “Semester exams are near, are they not?”
My ears heated and I could feel a flush creeping up on my cheeks. But he ignored me as he sipped on his coffee. And then after a beat, with soft pat to my thigh, he lifted his hand.
I almost deflated in relief,
