"No, it's not like that," Amelia shook her head, wanting to explain further, but then abruptly stopped and simply started crying silently.
"Delia Abigail, come at me if you're angry. Don't be angry with Amelia."
I didn't know when Irvin had appeared by my side.
He was cold all over and without a word, he embraced Amelia.
It was a scene of a hero saving a damsel in distress, a pitiful sight that I was quite familiar with.
In the past, Irvin used to protect me like that.
But now, he didn't say a word and left with Amelia right in front of me.
He didn't even look back once.
For several days, Irvin didn't come back.
Instead, I received a call from Michael.
He was six years old now, and since he was a month old, he had never stayed by my side. Irvin rarely let him have contact with me; whenever something came up, it was always Amelia who was called to handle it.
Irvin was right—Amelia was more like his mother than I was.
"Michael, why are you calling me?"
I asked, feeling a bit nervous since it had been so long since I heard his voice.
"Bad woman, where did you take Aunt Amelia?"
His childish cries came through the phone, and I felt as if I had been plunged into an ice pit.