Selena might fight Zavier, might insist on divorce, but she would never joke about her own body.

And besides, she was genuinely hungry.

The fish porridge smelled divine, its softness wrapping around her appetite in the warmest way. She finished the bowl, and with it came a tinge of comfort, her body shedding the sharp edges of exhaustion.

By the floor-to-ceiling window, Zavier stood leaning, his posture as deliberate as his words always ...