Angry

"Zak, I'm sorry..."

It was now eleven in the morning and Daphne had missed thirteen calls to Zak.

That's when an unfamiliar number called.

Jamarion was already changing, holding his cell phone to her ear as he did so, reassuring her, "Don't be afraid, it's not that bad, really."

Not wanting Zak to feel bad, wanting Zak to get better faster, and wanting the present to be prolonged... she's so selfish.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault for not taking care of you yesterday, you must have gotten cold."

Once upon a time Zak had had a fever, and Daphne, who had taken care of her herself, knew that when she got a fever she would have a headache, she would be fuzzy and unconscious, and she would want to do nothing but sleep and be left to her own devices.

She lowered her eyes, ready to be blamed.

Cerys Holland's heart skipped a beat, she didn't know who it was that was calling her, but she had done something wrong, and everything sounded like

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