Ashetta
burning glances turning heads
I let his smile sit between us for a moment, softer than the roguish ones he’s flashed before. There’s something respectful in the way he doesn’t press—doesn’t pick apart the quiet weight of what I admitted. Especially because it’s still fresh, the memory of it. Hearing his voice after months of nothing but silence. The ache of it lingers, sharp as ever. I hadn't been quite so respectful.When he explains the wil-o-wisp's trickery, my nose wrinkles faintly and I shake my head, almost scoffing at the thought. “Fuck father figures.” The words leave me flat but honest, no attempt to dress them up. “I’ve had three in my life. Two rejected and abandoned me, and one was cruel.” My mouth twists, wry and humorless. “So I don’t put much stock in the title.”
I glance back at him then, steady and earnest despite the bite in my words. “I’m glad for you, though—that you broke away. Done well for yourself.” My voice softens, almost conspiratorial, cider-warm and low. “Not everyone manages that.”
stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you
