I hated it.
I hated that I couldn’t concentrate, that my hands fumbled with every task, that my eyes kept drifting toward him no matter how hard I tried to pretend I didn’t care.
Zed.
Even from a distance, he stood out—broad shoulders, steady movements, commanding presence. He worked like the sea itself belonged to him, never faltering, never needing anyone. And yet, he had never once bothered to look at me since this morning. Not even once.
I bit my lip, glaring at the fish in my hands as if it was their fault. He didn’t so much as acknowledge me. Not after the cardigan, not after those men came and one of them dared to touch me. Nothing.
And I couldn’t stop wondering. Was he angry? Was it because I refused to put on the cardigan like he demanded? Or was it because of how reckless I
