Mia had barely touched her meal, but the second she saw her father step inside the dining hall, she froze.
Fred Williams—the man who had walked out of their lives five years ago without a second thought—strolled into the room like he belonged there. No hesitation, no shame. Just a wide grin, as if he were some special guest.
Her chair scraped against the floor.
“How did you—,” she muttered, halfway to standing but a firm hand closed over hers, stopping her.
It was Zac’s.
His grip wasn’t forceful, just steady and anchoring. His grey eyes found hers, a silent message passing between them—Stay.
Mia didn’t want to. She wanted to get up, walk out, escape the spiral of emotions crashing into her. But that would make things worse. So, she did what she knew best—pretended: Pretended everythi
