Chapter • 144

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Loren ⋅• ♱

My eyes weighed, my belly looked strange and at times it was like floating in my own body.

I could feel my father’s affection as he tried to talk and distract me, but now even opening his mouth was a complicated task.

"It’s going to be okay" he repeated and at that point I already knew he was saying it more to himself than to me.

"I know" I wanted to answer while smiling, but my mouth did not move, in fact, opening my eyes was already a gigantic effort, so I was content to grunt and hold her hand.

It wasn’t a squeeze, I couldn’t even call it anything but touch. A soft, almost nonexistent touch that my father should be questioning if it was real.

He was sad, wasn’t he? Abbadon should also be, but after I started sleeping more than 17 hours a day, she was no longer there, just Dad.

A version of Dad who stared at me with a red face from crying.

"Do you want to hear a story?" He asked me with a broken voice and I forced myself to smile, forced my face to