Gerald's POV
"Are you sure we have to go?" Leah asked.
She had barely dressed up, had picked a gown that was close to being a nightgown as a dress used to attend a feast. While I stood at the door, she was still seated as though she needed something or someone to pull her from the bed.
"It's not about the matter of choices." I got back to sitting on the bed beside her, rubbing her knee with my palms in order to create a certain sense of ease in her. "I know your conflict is because of me."
For that, she didn't try to say the contrary. Her white cheek that had taken on paleness simply rested on my left shoulder, relaxing as though I'd made the decision not to attend the feast.
"For a moment, forget that I exist."
She nodded.
