He glanced at the half-open suitcase on the ground, his tone as indifferent as if he were talking about something trivial: "Where are you... going?"
There was no pleading or reluctance in his eyes, only a perfunctory inquiry.
Clara's lips moved, but before she could utter a sound, Vanessa's sweet, cloying voice came from downstairs. The voice was sickeningly sweet, like poison coated in honey: "Liam, my fried eggs are ready! Come down and get them for me!"
Clara's body froze instantly.
The moment he heard that voice, Liam turned around almost immediately, all his previous perfunctory patience vanishing. He didn't even glance at Clara again, hurrying downstairs, leaving behind only a dismissive remark, like discarding a piece of trash: "If you want to leave, be careful."
The footsteps faded away at the top of the stairs, followed by Vanessa's giggles and Liam's response. The laughter was like needles, pricking Clara's eardrums again and again.