The word landed like a seal.
Aunt Mabel returned with dessert—apple crisp bubbling in a ceramic dish, vanilla ice cream already melting at the edges.
She set it down with a satisfied hum. “Now,” she said brightly, “eat, and behave.”
Cassian’s mouth twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”
I shot him a look. “Don’t encourage her.”
He looked at me like he found it amusing that I thought I could control anything happening in this house.
We ate dessert. The sugar softened the edges of the conversation, but the tension didn’t leave. It sat beneath everything, coiled and warm.
Aunt Mabel asked Cassian what he did for work.
He paused.
I felt him choose his words.
“Security,” he said.
Aunt Mabel gave him a look. “That’s also vague.”
“It’s accurate,” he replied.
She smiled like she’d just won something. “I like you,” she said, then added, “in a cautious way.”
Cassian nodded once. “That’s fair.”
After dessert, Aunt Mabel began clearing plates with brisk efficiency.
“I’ll do that,” I said, standing.
She waved me off. “Sit. You’re a guest.”
I blinked. “I’m your niece.”
“And you’re a guest,” she repeated firmly. “Your mother always tried to earn love through usefulness. I won’t have you repeating that habit in my house.”
The words stung because they were true.
I sat slowly.
Cassian’s gaze flicked to me, then back to Aunt Mabel, as if filing the sentence away.
Aunt Mabel finished clearing and disappeared into the kitchen again.
Cassian stood.
“I’ll help,” he said.
Aunt Mabel’s voice carried back, amused. “I didn’t invite you here to do dishes.”
“I’m not doing dishes,” Cassian replied. “I’m preventing her from doing them.”
I froze.
Heat slid through me—part embarrassment, part something else entirely.
