Isabella’s point of view
Three weeks.
That was how long it had been since the last conversation we had in the hallway.
Three weeks since he said we should take a break.
Three weeks since he stopped sleeping in our room. Not like he said it like goodbye, neither did he look angry. He looked resolved, like a man who chose discipline over desire or a man who decided to cut off a limb before infection spreads and do more damage.
He hasn’t been back to bed, not even once. But he hasn’t left me either. That’s the confusing part. Every morning Kai knocks softly and brings food.
“Boss said you have to finish it.”
Every afternoon Kai brings more food and fresh fruit, then at night he brings soups. I was being treated like I was fragile. As if I might disappear if not fed properly.
He doesn’
