Isla
Five whole minutes dragged by, and then Sienna and I finally headed toward the sitting room for dinner. The house felt bigger tonight, quieter, like every sound was padded under layers of tension I couldn’t shake. My clothes were already unpacked. My toiletries lined neatly on the guest bathroom counter. Everything was where it was supposed to be.
Except me.
Because somewhere in this house, Zayne still didn’t know I was sorry. And that thought sat in my chest like a stone.
Aurora had set out dinner, rosemary chicken, roasted vegetables, something steaming in a creamy sauce that smelled way too comforting for how restless I felt. Ronan sat at the head of the table, scrolling through something on his phone until Aurora nudged him with her elbow.
“Isla,” Aurora said warmly, “how’s y
