~CELINE’S POV~
I force myself to walk away. To pretend like Hunter’s question didn’t shake me. To pretend like I didn’t feel like the floor had been ripped out from under me.
The kitchen is too quiet, my thoughts too loud as I gather ingredients to make him something to eat. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for the cutting board. I tell myself it’s just from exhaustion, but I know better.
Why does he care?
Why is he asking these things?
I clutch the knife tighter, pressing my lips together. The way he looked at me. The way he *kept looking at me*—like he could see straight through my carefully built walls.
It’s not fair.
It’s not fair that he keeps pushing. It’s not fair that he keeps making me think about things I have buried for years.
I focus on chopping the vegeta
