Annalise storms past him, her own smaller wings rigid with tension. The temperature in the kitchen drops several degrees as Ridwan watches her go, his golden eyes hard as steel.
I keep kneading, trying to fade into the background, but my hands shake. Every interaction between them feels like watching a storm gather - all crackling energy and impending destruction.
Ridwan notices me then, his gaze softening a fraction. He’s always analyzing me, but he doesn’t push me, doesn’t bully me like most xaphan will. "The kitchen smells good."
"Thank you." I brush flour from my hands, painfully aware of how human I must look - no wings, no otherworldly grace, just messy hair and flushed cheeks from the oven's heat.
He nods once and leaves, his footsteps fading down the hall. Within minutes, I hear his study door close with a decisive click.
That's how it always goes. Commands. Short responses. Closed doors. The vast mansion feels more like a mausoleum than a home, with father and daughter orbiting each other like distant planets, never quite connecting.
I spend the next hour shaping loaves and watching the quiet war unfold. Annalise's tutor arrives at precisely nine, only to find an empty study. The poor man wrings his hands, pacing the halls until Ridwan emerges from his office like an oncoming storm.
I follow the sound of wings to the courtyard. Annalise perches on the edge of the fountain, her bare feet trailing in the water, platinum hair glowing in the morning light. She looks so young, so fragile despite her height and sharp edges.
"Your tutor's here." I set a plate of fresh pastries on the fountain's edge.
"I know." She traces patterns in the water. "Father's probably furious."
"He is."
"Good." But her voice cracks on the word.
I sit beside her, careful to keep space between us. The fountain bubbles behind us, masking the sound of approaching footsteps. "You know, when I was your age, I used to break my mother's plates."
Her silver eyes flick to mine. "Why?"
"Because she worked three jobs and was never home. Breaking things meant she had to stop and look at me, even if it was just to yell."
Annalise's wings twitch. "That's stupid."
"It was. But it worked, didn't it? She noticed me."
She pulls her feet from the water, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Father notices everything I do wrong."
"He notices everything you do, period. You don’t have to do anything wrong for him to see you, Annalise.”
A shadow falls across us. Ridwan stands at the courtyard entrance, his massive wings blocking the sun. "Your tutor is waiting."
Annalise's shoulders tense. She grabs a pastry and stalks past him without a word, leaving wet footprints on the stone.
Ridwan's jaw clenches as he watches her go. For a moment, something raw and painful flashes across his face - then it's gone, buried beneath layers of cold control. He turns and strides away, leaving me alone with the sound of running water and the weight of words left unsaid.
I fume all afternoon, watching father and daughter dance their familiar steps of anger and silence. When Annalise finallystorms upstairs and slams her door hard enough to rattle the windows, something in me snaps.
My feet carry me down the hallway before my brain catches up. The rich carpets muffle my steps as I march straight to Ridwan's office, not bothering to knock. The heavy oak door swings open.
He sits behind his massive desk, golden wings a stark contrast against the dark leather of his chair. Papers scatter across the polished wood, illuminated by floating orbs of light. The scar on his cheek catches the glow, making it look deeper, more savage.
"She's your daughter," I snap, arms crossed tight against my chest. My heart pounds, but I force my voice steady. "Act like it."
His golden eyes narrow at the challenge, and the temperature in the room plummets. He rises slowly from his chair, unfurling to his full height. The desk between us suddenly feels very small.
"You forget your place." His voice is quiet, dangerous.
"My place?" I step forward, hands trembling. "My place is in this house, watching a child cry herself to sleep because her father can't look at her for some reason."
Ridwan's wings flare wide, casting shadows across the walls. "You know nothing about-"
