Transmigrated Into The True Heiress

Eira scoffed, unscrewing the cap and taking another sip, stalling for time. "Guilty? Of what, exactly?"

Jania smirked. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe for saying or doing something that pushed him away? Or maybe..." She tilted her head, studying Eira closely. "For feeling something you don’t want to admit?"

Eira laughed. "Please tell me you don’t think I have feelings for your ’Master Lyle.’"

Jania shook her head, smiling. "I never said anything about that, but your reaction says plenty."

Eira shot her a sharp look, setting the bottle down with deliberate force. "And what reaction would that be?"

Jania’s smile widened, the mischievous glint in her eyes growing more prominent. "Defensiveness, for one. The way you’re gripping that bottle like it personally offended you? That’s another."

Eira huffed, crossing her arms. "You’re reaching, Jania. You really are. There’s nothing between Lyle and me—at least, nothing like that. Yeah, he’s top-tier handsome, crazy rich, and every girl’s dream, but not mine, okay? Besides, we argued—or maybe I argued with him—about the connection he had to me, and I realize now that I shouldn’t have because he wasn’t even angry. Instead, he was trying to make me understand that it wasn’t his fault and he didn’t know anything about it. But I didn’t want to listen, and I feel a little guilty about what happened. Happy now?"

"Is that all?"

Eira shot Jania a sharp glare, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. "What do you mean, ’is that all?’ Yes, that’s all! What more do you want from me, a full-blown confession? Alright, I’ll tell you. I’m starting to feel grateful for everything he’s been doing for me, even though we made a deal and he’s simply doing his part of the deal. And Lyle is... he’s mysterious, infuriating, and always so damn composed. It’s irritating, that’s all."

Jania’s smirk grew, and she raised a playful eyebrow. "Irritating, huh? Sounds like someone’s occupying a little too much space in your head for all the wrong reasons."

Eira groaned, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Don’t start, Jania. I don’t need your amateur psychoanalysis right now."