?Chapter 1065:


    Amanda’s throat constricted as beads of sweat traced a path down her neck, dampening her face in the process.


    There was something unnervingly mature about Rnd—a sophistication that seemed out of ce in someone his age. He navigated vices that many adults stumbled over—smoking, drinking—with an almost practiced nonchnce.


    As a therapist, Amanda could read between the lines of his life. His early years must have been a paradox—vivid yet solitary, loneliness his constant shadow.


    Her fingers curled around the new slippers Rnd had bought her, emotions churning beneath herposed exterior. “Thank you,” she murmured.


    Rnd cocked his head, his gaze fixing on her telltale reddening ears. “Don’t tell me you’re touched? How silly of you.”


    Theyers of his personality were bing clearer to Amanda with each interaction. Beneath the veneer of indifferencey a calcting mind.


    “Of course I’m touched. Only my dad ever showed such thoughtful consideration.”


    With fluid grace, Rnd cracked open a beer single-handedly, letting out a derisive snort. “What good did that do? All those years of raising you, only to have some fool destroy everything.”


    “You have a sharp tongue,” Amanda’s voice carried an undercurrent of warning.


    She merely had a rtionship with a man. Since when had that be a sin?


    A mocking smile yed across Rnd’s lips. “Honesty is my forte. And I’ve nevercked courage.”


    Amanda shook her fist in yful threat. “Next time, I’ll make your food so salty you’ll regret those words!”


    “Who’s asking for your cooking anyway?” Rnd settled into the sofa, taking anguid sip of beer before switching on the TV. He knew this woman was good at manipting people. She owed him now, but a few meals might shift the dynamic entirely.


    “I’m actually quite good in the kitchen, you know. When I cooked for… my dad.” Amanda forced a smile, the words “my boyfriend” dying on her lips as she substituted them with “my dad” at thest moment. Rnd seemed absorbed in the TV.


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    The men’s ser match flickered across the screen, a sport that held no appeal for Amanda.


    Thoughts of her father always left a hollow ache, but there was nothing to be done about it. She felt like an afterthought, quietly gathering her belongings as she retreated toward the second bedroom.


    Rnd’s voice cut through the ambient noise of the TV. “Go on. What was it like cooking for your father?”


    Amanda hesitated. “Nothing. Never mind.”


    This time, Rnd’s silence was genuine; he waspletely uninterested.


    In the sanctuary of her room, freshly showered, Amanda sank into her bed as memories of her father pressed against her consciousness. Sleep had be an elusive friendtely. Even during her nights in the tent, rest had danced just beyond her grasp, leaving her to wrestle with her thoughts until dawn.


    She retrieved her phone andposed a message to Nasir.


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