"I don't know." Amber shrugged. "It's just…sometimes you—actually, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."
Their conversation went on for a while longer until Amber's words trailed off, watching Evelyn who was scratching her index finger against the wooden table, absent-mindedly.
"Evelyn…?"
No response.
"Evelyn!"
Evelyn snapped her gaze over to her, a bit startled. "What?" she asked.
Amber creased her brows, now more than apprehensive. "Seriously, Evelyn, are you okay?" She was pleading with her gaze. "You don't tell me anything, and I know you're not fine. I can feel it."
"That is funny." Evelyn cackled, playing it off. "Why wouldn't I be fine? I mean—"
"As much as you may want to deny it, I know your father's death hurts you," Amber cut her off. "He was all you had after your mother died and now he's gone too. Why do I feel like you're blaming yourself for not talking to him a year before his death?"
"Amber—"
