“You keep kidding yourself, Baron.” I hit his arm playfully. He was still in my room, keeping me company and making sure I was not crying again. 

“I’m hungry. You?” He asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

“I’m not hungry.” How could I think of food when I was going through so much? My appetite in that moment was non-existent, food was the least of my problems.

“You should be hungry.” He eyed me.

“But I’m not.” I insisted.

“I’m not going ...