Then she smiled bitterly. "…Father died."
Akamir stood frozen in the doorway, his hand still resting on the doorknob.
"…What?"
Inara didn't repeat herself.
She just sat there, her hands resting in her lap, eyes focused on nothing in particular.
Her long silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like a curtain trying to hide her face—but it couldn't hide the grief.
Akamir quietly closed the door behind him and stepped into the room.
"When?" he asked, his voice softer now.
"Two hours ago," Inara replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "The maid said he died smiling…."
She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. Her hands clenched into small fists.
Akmair slowly sat down on the bed beside her. "…I see."
Inara didn't respond as she looked down on her hands.
"It hurts you know." She mumbled with a tired smile. "Even though he never behave like one but he was still my father."
Akamir didn't replied as he placed his hand over her, squeezing it tightly.
