The air in the bedroom was heavy with unspoken tension as Andrei pushed the door open. Cristine sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The sunlight framed her in soft gold, but there was nothing warm in her expression. She turned slightly, acknowledging his presence but saying nothing.
“Cristine,” Andrei began, his voice low and careful, “can we talk?”
She didn’t respond immediately, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the fabric of her dress. Finally, she looked at him, her eyes sharp and searching.
“You mean the truth this time?” she asked, her tone edged with bitterness.
Andrei winced but nodded. “Yes. The truth.”
Cristine leaned back, crossing her arms over her growing belly. “Since when did you know that your stepmother is my mother? And don’t try to dance around it
