The moment I stepped out of my room the next morning, the air felt thick, suffocating, like a storm was brewing inside me. The smell of breakfast curled down the hallway, a sharp contrast to the knot tightening in my stomach.
And there he was—Cross—sitting at the table with Mia. He was serving her, his smile effortless, soft, like she was the only person in the room. Something inside me shattered.
I hated this. The way jealousy clawed its way up my throat, relentless and sharp. Cross had no right to look at her like that, to be so damn gentle with her.
That warmth—his warmth—it should’ve been mine. But every inch of me was drawn to them, to the way he spoke to her, like she mattered more than anything else. And no matter how hard I tried to shut it out, there was something magnetic ab
