Cornelia sniffled, her performance flawless. “I’m so clumsy! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” She cast a fleeting, dismissive glance at Seraphine, her guilt feigned.
Seraphine sat frozen, her hand gripping a napkin as she dabbed at the angry red burn on her arm. Her heart ached, not from the burn but from Luther’s utter disregard. He hadn’t even looked at her.
“Cornelia, let me help you.” Luther’s voice softened as he knelt beside her, brushing her hair back with a tenderness Seraphine hadn’t felt from him in months.
The scene before her was a dagger to the chest. Seraphine’s jaw tightened as she rose to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice cold and distant. “I’ll take care of myself.”
Luther didn’t look up. He remained beside Cornelia, murmuring reassurances as if Seraphine wasn’t even there. The final thread of hope snapped.
Seraphine turned, her steps measured and deliberate as she left the restaurant. The door swung closed behind her, muting the laughter and murmurs inside.