Maya POV
I’d never seen Juniper this small.
Not even after the blog post, not even after her mother showed up at the penthouse like a hurricane in designer heels. Those times she’d cried, sure, but there had still been fire in her. Now she just looked… hollow. Like someone had reached inside her and scooped out the part that used to fight back.
She was curled on my couch in the same hoodie she’d been wearing for three days straight—Tristan’s, of course. The sleeves were too long, the hem hit her mid-thigh, and every time she moved I caught the faint scent of his cologne. She hadn’t taken it off since she showed up at my door with a duffel bag and red eyes.
I handed her a fresh mug of ginger tea and sat on the coffee table facing her. “Drink. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Sh
