A part of Iris' mind was even more cynical than that, however. Had she even had her aunt? Or was it all a lie? The photos she had clearly showed that she knew about the life her father lived, and she had still hated him more than anything.
"Come, let's go up," Kyro told her, and Iris looked up at him with a blank stare. What was he speaking about? "We're at our hotel. Come."
He pulled her out, and Iris let him. Outside, the hum of the city woke her a little and she brushed her damp cheeks. With a lowered head so people wouldn't look at her weirdly, she followed Kyro into the elevator and to their room.
Mila was still in Kyro's hands, with her little arms around his neck. She was sleeping like a little angel, but instead of calming Iris, the sight only brought her more pain. Had her father carried her like that too?
She couldn't remember him at all. Neither him nor her mother. In the photos, she believed them to be her parents simply based on resemblance to her or her aunt.
