RIVAL’S POV
The night didn’t end when the movie credits rolled.
I stayed on the couch long after Thomas disappeared into the kitchen. The faint sound of cabinets opening, bags rustling, and the microwave humming filled the house. All ordinary sounds. Almost comforting except my body felt like it had been ground to dust, and the ordinary didn’t fit anymore.
I pressed a hand against my ribs, felt the angry throb of bruises layered over bruises. Every breath reminded me that I was close, pretty too close to breaking for good.
The microwave dinged. Footsteps padded back in. Thomas returned, bowl in hand, stuffing a mouthful of noodles before he even sat down. He flopped back into his usual spot, eyes glued to the screen again.
For a while, neither of us spoke. Just the faint sound of chew
