The morning came gray and heavy, as though even the sky knew what had broken between them. Malia sat at the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on the faint cracks of light seeping through the curtains. She hadn’t slept — not after the look Kieth had given her before walking out. It wasn’t anger that haunted her most. It was the disappointment beneath it. The disbelief.
Every sound in the house felt amplified — the distant hum of the elevator, the muted click of footsteps in the hall. Each one made her flinch. When the door finally opened, she knew it was him. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t dare.
“Get up,” Kieth’s voice said from behind her. Calm. Controlled. Too controlled.
Malia slowly rose, heart thudding painfully. She turned to find him standing in
