FREYA'S POV
A knock on the door makes me jump. "Freya? You okay in there?"
Adrian. Of course.
"Fine." I call back. My voice sounds steady. Good.
"Can I come in?"
"No."
"I brought food. You need to eat."
"I am not hungry."
"You have not eaten since before the wedding. That was eight hours ago." He pauses. "I am leaving a tray outside the door. Please eat something."
Footsteps retreating. I wait a few minutes then crack the door open. A tray sits on the floor. Soup. Bread. Water. Simple food.
My stomach growls. Betrays me.
I grab the tray and bring it inside. Lock the door again. Sit on the bed and eat mechanically. The soup is good. Warm. Probably homemade. Of course Adrian can cook. Of course he is perfect at everything.
I hate him.
No. I do not hate him. I want to hate him b
