Amias's concern, the genuine, unfiltered alarm in his silvery eyes, is the first such emotion she has seen directed at her from her own son in years.
Clarissa freezes, looking up at him. She opens her mouth to offer a conscious lie, but the sight of his face, the pain, the tears, and the love that had been buried alive she finds in it, overcomes her.
Her rigid expression softens completely. A genuine, unguarded tear slides down her own cheek. She raises a trembling hand and gently touches his jaw, her fingers cool against his feverish skin.
"I'm fine, darling," she manages, straining for the words under the circumstances.
However, the sheer emotion behind them is devastating. "I just... I just swallowed some perfume wrong. Don't worry about it."
