Chapter 145: Dumb Bastard
Stopping in front of the square wooden table, Malia let go of Orla’s arm and beamed at Cyran, who was dressed impeccably in a fitted dark green button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, paired with tailored black slacks. His black wavy hair was styled neatly, framing his delicate features. He greeted them with a wide smile, his eyes briefly lingering on each of them in turn.
"Glad you both made it," Cyran said. "I thought I’d have to call Malia again to make sure she didn’t lose you, Orla."
Orla smirked, crossing her arms as she slid into one of the chairs. "I’m here, aren’t I? Though I have to say, this place is way too cheerful for what I’m assuming is going to be an intense conversation."
Malia nudged Orla’s shoulder lightly before taking a seat next to her. "I think it’s perfect. The food will make everything easier to digest—literally and emotionally."
Cyran shrugged, amused, and leaned back in his chair. "I picked it because it’s quiet. No distractions, no interruptions. We can talk freely here."
Orla raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. She glanced out the window at the garden, where small fountains gurgled softly, their sound faintly audible through the glass. "Alright, Cyran. You’ve set everything perfectly. Let’s see how the conversation unfolds."
Malia shot him an approving smile. "She’s not wrong, though. Thanks for handling this."
Cyran shook his head in response before his gaze shifted toward the entrance. "We’re not done yet. We’re still waiting for her."
Malia turned her head, and Orla followed, both of them falling silent as they watched Ephyra step through the door.
Ephyra paused just inside the entrance, scanning the room until her gaze landed on them.
When her eyes locked on theirs, she squared her shoulders and strode toward the table with purpose. The hesitation that had haunted her earlier seemed to dissipate with every step, replaced by a quiet determination.