Aria
The next day, I woke up feeling utterly foolish for my failed attempt at kissing Cassian. I stared at the ceiling, replaying the humiliating scene in my mind—his hands pushing me away, the shock in his eyes, the coldness of his rejection. The bandage on my foot was another physical reminder of my stupidity.
"What were you thinking?" I muttered to myself as I dragged my body out of bed. "Stockholm syndrome? Really, Aria?"
I dressed carefully, selecting a plain white blouse and dark jeans—nothing that could be seen as trying to attract attention. My reflection in the mirror looked tired, shadows under my eyes testifying to my restless night.
As I descended the stairs, my bandaged foot still tender, I heard Cassian's voice drifting from the study. He was engrossed in a phone call, hi
