Shit.
Kira.
I forgot that Anya isn’t the only malicious presence in the house. Forget ghosts—this is what a haunting looks like. Evil housekeeper on the left, evil sister-in-law on the right.
For a second, I consider skipping lunch altogether. But then my stomach growls like a dying animal. I haven’t had breakfast today, and if I don’t put some calories in me, I might start chewing the furniture.
I observe Kira. She’s standing by the counter, one hand braced on the edge, the other pressed against her face. I wonder if she’s got a migraine, or if her evil aura has started affecting her, too, but then I realize what’s happening.
She’s crying.
Her shoulders are shaking. Then come the sounds. Raw, broken sobs she can barely keep to herself. I feel like I’m seeing a baby elephant doing cartwheels or a seal teaching calculus. Something incompatible with my perception of reality.
For a moment, I wonder if it’s even her. She’s always so put together, so polished and sharp-edged, that seeing her fall apart doesn’t seem real.
My first instinct is to turn around and leave before she sees me. Forgo those calories and chew on Petyr’s pristine mahoganyantiques, anything other than to put myself in her crosshairs right now.
We’ve never been close. At best, we tolerate each other. At worst, she goes out of her way to poke at me, to find some weakness she can use to get under my skin.
I take a half step back, ready to retreat…
And realize I can’t bring myself to. Not when she looks like this.
“Kira?” I say softly.
Her head jerks up. She blinks fast, swiping at her face, trying to erase the evidence. “Sima. I didn’t—” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat. “I didn’t hear you.”
I step inside slowly. “Are you okay?”
She gives a shaky laugh. “Do I look okay?”
“Not really, no.”
Neither of us moves. Then she exhales and stares down at the counter. “Sorry,” she whispers, which makes me want to book an instant visit to the ear doctor. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“You didn’t,” I say. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, unsure. There’s no bite in her expression this time, I realize. None of her usual scathing judgment. Just exhaustion.
Whatever this is, it’s real pain, not performance. I know that kind of hurt when I see it.
I glance toward the cupboard, then back at her. “You want some tea?”
Kira stares at me for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”
I pull out two mugs and set them down between us. The sound of ceramic clinking against the counter fills the silence.
As I fill the kettle, I catch her watching me. Not with suspicion, like she usually does. Just quiet curiosity. As if she’s trying to figure out what I’m really doing here.
I realize this might be the first time Kira’s been shown compassion.Realcompassion.
If her upbringing was anything like mine, I don’t struggle to believe it.
“Thanks,” she says finally.
“Don’t mention it.” I offer her a small smile. “We all have bad days.”
“Yeah.” She laughs, which surprises me. “Some worse than others.”
