ARIA'S POV
I woke up groggy. Like I'd been dragged through a field of bricks and grief, with a dash of pharmaceutical aftertaste still coating my tongue.
But weirdly... refreshed?
Gross.
After lying in bed for ten minutes debating whether or not to breathe today, I finally dragged myself to the bathroom. I showered, got dressed, brushed my hair until it stopped looking like a grieving bird’s nest.
I even wore actual clothes...not a robe or hoodie or the soft guilt of my past, but something presentable.
Because screw Rhea and Kane. And the devil’s circus this house had become.
I can’t avoid them forever.
I was descending the stairs, muttering mental insults for each step. Step one, Rhea can choke on a bag of burnt lavender potpourri. Step two, Kane can fall off one of his balconies.
