Chapter 882 His White Moonlight?
Her eyes landed on Alexandre and Antoine sitting stiffly on the couch, with Hera and Xavier standing to the side. The air felt thick with tension, so heavy it was like stepping straight onto a landmine.
Athena’s gaze flicked to Hera, whose face was so red she looked like she might explode any second, like a balloon inflated a breath too far.
Athena didn’t say a word at first. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the four tense figures. Hera’s pleading expression practically screamed, ’Help me, please,’ and Athena, ever the best friend, cleared her throat dramatically.
"Ehem! Good morning... to you too?" she said, her voice laced with uncertainty. But it was enough to break the suffocating tension in the room.
Just then, the rest of the girls began trickling into the living room, still half-asleep and dragging their feet. It was early, after all.
Minerva looked like she was sleepwalking, clearly not used to waking up before the sun had fully risen. She preferred to stay curled up in bed until a luxurious 8 or 9 a.m. Then there was Liz, barely functional, moving more like a zombie than a person, eyes glazed over in a caffeine-deprived fog that wouldn’t lift until her first cup of coffee.
The girls froze in place as soon as they saw Hera.
They didn’t know exactly what had happened, but the scene before them told a very specific story: Xavier, smug as ever, clung to Hera with the self-satisfaction of a peacock flaunting his brightest feathers. Alexandre looked like he hadn’t slept all night, his eyes shadowed and his soul halfway gone. And Antoine... poor Antoine looked like he’d been caught in a crossfire he never signed up for.
It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots.