I walk beside Angel through the grand foyer, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. His silence is a weight beside me, heavy and unreadable. He hasn't spoken since breakfast.
Not a word.
My stomach growls—a quiet, pathetic sound. Breakfast was a torture session, not a meal.
How could I eat properly with Moon's blue gaze boring into me the entire time? Every bite I tried to take, his eyes were there.
Watching.
Waiting. Judging.
I don't know what his problem is.
I don't know why he won't just leave me alone.
The servants bow as we approach the car. One opens the door with a practiced, graceful motion. I pause, turning to Angel.
His face is pale, but there's a flush high on his cheeks. He's been quiet all morning.
Too quiet.
Is he still angry?
About the days I ignored him?
About the crying?
"Angel," I say softly. "Are you okay?"
He looks at me, a smile flickering across his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes.
"Yes. I'm fine."
