"K-Kafi, you...J-Just what do you think you're doing?"
A gentle voice that excluded hints of warmth and comfort was heard from my side.
I was surprised when I heard this voice, not because I heard a third person speaking when there were only two people who lived in this house. But because the voice belonged to the same person I was supposedly groping right now, like my hands were claws that wouldn't let go of succulent meat they've caught.
When I slowly turned my head to look in the direction in which the voice came from with a perturbed look on my face, I was dumbfounded to see that the person who had called out to me was my mother, Abigaille Vanitas.
She was holding what seemed to be some flour and sugar in her hands, which she got out of the pantry and had a look of disbelief in her dark blue eyes at the scene she had walked into.
