I watched Liam 's departing figure and gave a self-deprecating smile.
The door was gently pushed open, and Lila tiptoed in, carrying a glass of milk.
“It was wrong of you to disturb my piano practice today.” Lila raised her chin slightly, her tone carrying an arrogance beyond her years, much like how Liam spoke to her. “Drink this, and I will forgive you.”
She turned her head and handed over the milk, but deliberately avoided looking at Clara's face, as if looking at her for even a second would offend her eyes.
Clara's fingers tightened slightly as she gripped her phone, a bitter feeling rising in her heart.
She remembered that when Lila was three years old, she would run over with milk in the same way, only then the child would softly call "Mommy feed me," rest her chin on her knees, stare into her eyes and say "Mommy is the prettiest."
But now, the little dumpling who used to cling to her has become the one who hates her the most.
She wanted to refuse, but then she thought of her three-year-old daughter and that this might be the last time she would drink milk poured by her daughter, so she eventually took the cup.