I knew I’d screwed up with Ferna and Elsie. The way I’d snapped at them earlier, accusing them of siding with Aklan, was out of line. They’d only been trying to help, to keep me from spiralling into deeper trouble, and I’d thrown their kindness back in their faces.
They were the only friends I had here at Norsen, the only ones who’d stood by me through my humiliation, and I couldn’t lose them. Not over this. Not over him. I had to fix things and apologise before the rift grew too wide to bridge.
I pulled ingredients from the fridge, potatoes, carrots, a slab of chicken, and I started chopping, the rhythmic thud of the knife against the cutting board grounding me.
I’d make dinner, something hearty, something that might soften the blow of my apology.
A creamy chicken stew, maybe, with
