Daciana’s POV
The silent treatment was worse than any confrontation could have been.
Zane was not the type of person to play petty games but since our conversation backstage, not a single word had passed his lips to mine other than the barest minimum, absolute necessities. His silence was like a heavy stone, weighing the air down between us with unspoken words.
I kept trying to tell myself it was okay to focus on Pete, on my performance, on the fact that we only had one more day left in this city. But Zane’s brooding presence in the background was just impossible for me to ignore.
At breakfast, he sat across from me, checking through his phone as if I was not there. Pete, in his blissful ignorance of the tension that lay so palpably in the air, chattered excitedly about the show
