Blanche's POV
I hadn't slept a wink all night, and exhaustion weighed on me like a lead blanket.
Zain's words twisted the knot in my chest tighter.
I clenched my jaw, drew a shaky breath, and met his gaze with ice in my voice. "You want it? Make it yourself. I'm only cooking for Carry."
He studied my bloodshot eyes, the dark circles carved beneath them like bruises. When I spoke, his frown deepened, clearly disturbed by my tone.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, until he finally broke it. "You never used to act like this. What's gotten into you? I just asked for extra porridge—it's not exactly unreasonable."
Something inside me snapped. I spun around, fury blazing through every word. "Zain, you said it yourself—that was before. People change. Nobody stays frozen in time, and neither do I."
He rarely saw me lose control like this, but lately, my temper had been a live wire.
