Elara’s POV
There’s a particular kind of silence that doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels like punishment. That’s what the house had turned into. Adrian and I lived like two statues made of frost, passing each other in the hallways with polite nods and colder hearts.
He didn’t care to ask where I went or what I did, and I didn’t care to tell him. We were just… existing. Strangers in an expensive cage.
So when Rowan’s text popped up again that morning—
Still waiting on your reply, by the way, El.
—I didn’t think twice before replying.
Pick me up at noon.
Maybe it was rebellion. Maybe I just missed feeling like myself.
Rowan showed up exactly at twelve, leaning against a sleek black car that looked like it belonged in a music video. Aviators. Rolled-up sleeves. That same grin that said
