I clenched my eyes shut, swallowing my rage.

Just the sight of Cyrillote staring at me—at the baby version of me—made me want to smack him upside the head.

But what could I do? This was the past, something already set in stone.

After forcing down my irritation, I opened my eyes again.

Cyrillote was still plastered against the window, utterly fascinated, unable to tear his gaze away from the infant in the room. His pitch-black eyes, usually befitting a demon, shone with an almost childlike curiosity.

I let out a long sigh.

Before I realized it, words slipped out of my mouth, knowing full well he couldn’t hear me anyway.

“Hey, didn’t you say you’d tell me about my mom? Why the hell are you showing me all this instead? If you have time for this, why don’t you go find her? What’s the point of dragging me back here? I’m doing just fine without you hovering over me, so just get lo—”

…st.

I never got to finish.

The woman holding baby me gently set me down on the bed and walked toward the door. Left alone, the infant flailed on her back, staring up at the ceiling, tiny arms paddling in the air.

I watched, dumbfounded.

Wait, I wasn’t telling her to leave! Why did she go?!

With her gone, an unsettling thought crept in.@@novelbin@@

Now it was just baby me and Cyrillote. Alone.

Predictably, Cyrillote pressed even closer to the window, as if he was about to sink right through the glass.

Meanwhile, my father was still out there, searching for my mother.

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