That night, the bed shifted slightly under the weight of three bodies—Marcellus already deep in sleep on the left, his chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm. In the middle, Lithia lay still, her eyes wide open and alert, arms folded under the blanket. On the right, Harny rested quietly, her breathing soft and steady.
After a moment, in the gentlest whisper, Harny broke the silence.
"…Lithia?"
Her daughter turned slightly in the darkness. Her voice was soft. "Yes, Mom?"
There was a brief pause.
"After this… you'll follow him back to the Armand Region, right?"
Lithia nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes."
Another pause.
"…Oh."
"…Why?" Lithia asked, her voice cautious.
Harny's reply was sighed out lightly. "Nothing," she said softly. "I'll just… be lonely again when you leave."
Lithia's brows furrowed with concern. "Mom…"
Harny's voice carried a teasing, faintly playful tone. "Maybe I should reconsider remarriage," she mused.
