When the door closed, Clyde turned his gaze to Darcy, his expression suddenly sharper. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. His stare was heavy, almost probing.
Darcy met his gaze. "What?"
Clyde's tone dropped, edged with cold anger. "Are you playing games with him? Do you enjoy watching him suffer?"
Darcy was taken aback. "What nonsense are you talking about?"
"Then why were you rambling when you were supposed to be fainting?" Clyde asked, voice tight.
Darcy's brows furrowed. "What? I told you I don't remember! What have I said?" He sounded genuinely confused, frustration rising in his tone.
Clyde's jaw clenched. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath before speaking again. "You pushed Micah away," he said quietly. "You said he was a liar when he told you he was worried about you."
Clyde paused. "I sent him to fetch water for you before it got worse… Then you said he had abandoned you… left you to die…"
