Jared took the first sip, then another. It was warm, and it was clear that he very much admired the taste as he went ahead to drink more, taking slow, satisfied swallows.
Clara, on the other hand, no longer sipped from her cup.
She simply stood there.
And stared at him.
At first it wasn't noticeable. The room was quiet, each person absorbed in their own thoughts, their own worries about what they had seen that night. But gradually, her stillness began to stand out.
Falson, who had been staring absently into his cup, lost in thought, had no choice but to look up.
Especially when she began to speak.
His mouth dropped half open in shock.
"…Jared, I think you're the worst thing that ever happened to us werewolves. And for me, you're the worst husband in the world!"
Her voice carried a sharp indignation, the words rushing out of her chest as if she had been holding them back for far too long and was determined to say everything while he could still hear it.
