Summer didn't answer immediately. The wrinkles between her brows deepened as her hand unconsciously rested on her flat stomach.
Her eyes drifted somewhere far away, as though she was searching through memories she had buried a long time ago.
She was so different from the Summer Gideon had first met.
More mature. Yet somehow, more fragile.
Without saying anything, Gideon reached across the table and gently took the hand resting there, giving it a soft squeeze.
"It's okay if you don't have an answer," he said quietly. "I know you're just as shocked as Freya."
"That's the problem, Gideon."
She let out a quiet sigh before straightening her back. Her free hand slowly rested on top of his as she searched for the right words.
"I... I don't even know how to explain what I'm feeling."
She remained silent for a moment before continuing.
"I'm seven years older than Freya. I saw things she never did. She only remembers Dad through the eyes of a little girl."
