Aurelia’s POV
Ashriel didn’t come to the infirmary the next day. Or the day after that.
By the third day, I was pacing the infirmary like an i***t, snapping my gloves on and off in frustration and pretending to be occupied with patient logs. Was I overthinking? Probably. Did I care? No. Every time the door creaked open, I glanced up just a second too fast—hoping. It was humiliating.
Maybe I had overdone it. Maybe he saw right through the charm, the flirty glances, the gentle touches. Maybe he knew I was playing him—and worse, maybe he didn’t care. The worst part was how that stung.
I hated that it stung.
What was I doing getting caught up in his eyes, his voice, the way he looked at me like I was something soft in a world full of thorns? Damn it, Leena, I thought. Why did your stupid
