Yeara's hands rested on the door. She drew a few slow, steady breaths, bracing herself. Was he asleep by now, or still perched on the stool? Hesitantly, she pushed the bathroom door open, her eyes sweeping the room as she stepped out.
He was gone.
Yeara's breath caught in her throat, taken aback by his disappearance. Why would he just leave like that at this time without saying anything or even informing her at all?
At least he should have told her. Her eyes moved to the corner of the wardrobe, but he was not there. She turned her face to the window, perhaps he was standing there—but he was not there either. Worry crept into her.
"Where is he, and why would he leave without saying a word?" she said aloud, as if the air could answer her unanswered question.
Her eyes drifted to the door before moving back to her silk gown. She bit her lips. How was she even supposed to leave to look for him like this?
