The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on Vivian’s sleeping face as she lay on the couch. She looked peaceful, curled up in a way that made her seem almost fragile. I hadn’t expected her to be awake when I got home—let alone to be baking up a storm, surrounded by desserts and watching a movie at five in the morning. But the way she’d jumped, startled by my presence, had made something snap in me. I’d felt anger before, sure, but never like this. Seeing her flinch like that, so visibly unsettled by the night she’d had—it stirred a rage in me that I hadn’t known I was capable of.
My gaze shifted to her wrist, now carefully bandaged where she’d burned herself. I’d noticed the skin was already starting to blister, so I’d wrapped it up to keep it sa
