Chapter <b>22 </b>
On Sunday, Mirabe’s package arrived. It <b>wasn’t </b>particrlyrge<b>, </b>yet it was surprisingly heavy. Shawn, who had mustered the strength of Hercules and enlisted his wife’s help, finally managed to heave the box from the doorstep into the living room.
Delh eyed her husband, puffing and panting, and teased, “Don’t forget to take that supplement Mira sent you, hon.”
Shawn’s forehead was a symphony of throbbing veins. Exhausted, he had no desire to speak.
Mirabe descended the staircase just in time to witness the scene. She headed to the kitchen for a ss of water.
“Honey, your package is here.” Delh called out to her<b>. </b>
With a nonchnt hum, Mirabe set down her ss and approached.
“What on earth did your friend send you? It’s so heavy,” Delh said, her curiosity piqued.
Mirabe’s eyes lowered slightly <b>as </b>she rolled up her sleeves, answering casually, “Oh, just a bunch of knick–knacks.”
As she spoke, she bent down and effortlessly lifted the box, her slender frame seeming to harbor boundless strength.
“I’m heading upstairs,” she dered, her voice betraying no sign of strain.
Beside her, Shawn, who had struggled so mightily, <b>was </b>bbergasted. Was his daughter a strongwoman? The box must have weighed at least fifty pounds. How could she lift it with such ease?
Delh, too, was taken aback. In that instant, her mental image of a delicate and dainty daughter began to crumble.
Mirabe had always been strong and <b>was </b>unaware of the psychological shadows she cast on her parents by merely lifting a box. After <b>a </b>year in her current body, which <b>had </b>initially felt feeble, she had undergone extensive conditioning and training that had left her in the best shape so far. To her, a box weighing forty or fifty pounds was a trifle.
After hauling the box to her room, Mirabe spent the entire afternoon tinkering with its contents, scarcely leaving her sanctuary.
Meanwhile, Delh made several trips to her daughter’s door, contemting a knock but ultimately deciding against it.
It wasn’t until dinner time that Mirabe emerged<b>, </b><b>a </b>trace of fatigue gracing her delicate features<b>. </b>
Emmitt was present at dinner as well, which surprised Mirabe. Since picking her up from the airport, he had not once returned home. Whether he was simply too busy or reluctant to ept her as his sister, she didn’t know. And frankly. it didn’t matter to her.
At the dinner table, Emmitt’s expression was a mix of emotions. “Mirabe, Mom told me you’re transferring to Parkside High School?” he asked. She mentioned choosing Parkside High a few days ago, but he thought she was just boasting. Deep down, he had little respect for her, which was why he didn’t bother toe by after dropping Summer off at the Gilbert family. Had it not been for several calls from his mother, he might not have returned even today.
You could only imagine his shock upon seeing the eptance letter from Parkside High School that his mother <b>had </b>shown him.
Mirabe was focused on her meal, and only after a considerable dy did she lift her head to meet Emmitt’s gaze with her own clear eyes<b>, </b>replying. “Yeah… I am. I’m going to register tomorrow.”
Meeting his sister’s pure gaze, Emmitt felt as if something was lodged in his throat, and it took him a moment to murmur. “Then… I’ll take you to school tomorrow.”
“Oh, there’s no need. I can take the bus. You’ve got your things to do.” Mirabe responded, thinking she was being considerate and helpful.
Hearing this, Emmitt’s difort intensified.