The room lay in an unsettling silence, its halls shadowed by watchful servants who lingered nearby, murmuring gentle pleas for Jasmine to eat. But she remained curled up on her bed, motionless, her gaze fixed on the wall, empty and unseeing.

Steve entered her room without knocking. She turned her hollow gaze to him, her eyes shadowed by dark circles. Her hair was tangled, her once radiant presence reduced to a fragile shell.

“How long do you plan on doing this?” he asked, his voice cold ...