Alina lay sprawled on her bed, her face buried in the pillow as soft sobs escaped her. She didn’t even fully understand why she was crying; maybe she just needed to let it out, but deep down, she knew she was upset with Liam.
It wasn’t just about him not liking the hairstyle she made for him… it was the way he said it. No smile, no hint of appreciation, just cold words that felt like a slap.
Her chest tightened with frustration. Ungrateful man, she thought, sniffing.
The quiet of the room was broken by the sound of her door opening. She lifted her head slightly, and even without looking properly, she knew it was him. The maids never opened her door without knocking.
She turned to glance toward the door. Liam stood there, tall and composed, his face unreadable as always. But what caught
