Avyanne’s pov

The morning after yesterday's incident started like any other in Blair’s wing, was slow.

He came late downstairs for dinner, hair damp from a rushed shower, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to make it look intentional. But there was something off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and when he slid into the driver’s seat, he moved slower than usual.

“You’re quiet,” I said as he pulled out of the driveway.

Unlike Blair, he was so quiet and didn't bother eating ...