Chiara
I sat cross-legged on the bed, the half-empty pack of chips balanced on my thigh like some pathetic consolation prize.
Every crunch felt like chewing nothing. I was starving, and my stomach wouldn’t stop growling loudly. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do a thing about it.
I wasn’t stepping foot in that kitchen. Not while he was there.
I checked the time on my phone. It hadn’t even been five minutes since I went to the kitchen, but he should be done by now. He was already done cooking when I checked earlier.
I swung my legs off the bed, stood up, but I couldn’t take a step. I collapsed back onto the mattress with a dramatic flop.
What if he’s still there? Leaning against the counter and waiting to glare at me the second I walk in?
My chest tightened, and tears pricked the corners o
