Aria

“I was still eating,” I said, walking beside Grant, my footsteps light compared to his heavier, clipped pace.

He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t storming, but he was furious. I could feel it in the stiffness of his shoulders, in the silence that weighed more than any outburst. He didn't need to vibrate with rage for me to know he was seeing red.

“Food is the least of what should be on your mind,” he said, his voice low as we stepped into his room. He shut the door behind us, the ...