Bridgette
The dinner table was silent, well not really. The clicks of cutlery hitting dishes filled the room, combined with the rich scent of dinner, it almost felt like a home, somewhere warm that I could always turn to when I needed it the most, except it wasn't like that at all— Not when he was sitting so close to me, scalding my skin with his gaze, every other second like clockwork.
I did my best to ignore it, my head bowed, focused intently on my meal. For a second, the thought of leaving the dinner table flickered through my mind, a thought I had to squashed due to the very ridiculous rules Margaret and her husband had forced me to accept. She wanted to make things work, and I had to at least pretend everything was fine.
Snapping at Rhysand would cause a scene, giving Ryhsand mor
