The message burned behind my eyelids long after the screen went dark.
I told myself I wouldn’t go. That I was done walking into his gravity.
And yet… when seven came, I was already dressed. The dress wasn’t a choice, it was armor. My pulse counted the seconds like a metronome, steady enough to fake calm.
By the time I stepped into the dining room, the air already knew we were at war.
Dinner was a battlefield served on porcelain.
The staff had set the table perfectly: silver polished to mirror, wine poured to the right mark, meat sliced tender enough to dissolve on the tongue. I barely tasted it. Across from me, Ryan ate in silence, the cut of his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on his plate too long to be casual.
The clink of my fork against china was the only sound between us. I chewed wi
