[Meredith].
"Why aren't you eating?" I asked aloud, my tone light, unconcerned and perfectly audible.
She released a slow, weary sigh. "How can a mother eat when her child is missing?"
"Oh," I murmured, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Eat first."
She shook her head faintly. "You eat it."
"I've already had breakfast," I replied easily.
Rosalie said nothing after that.
I glanced at the tray again. The steam had begun to fade. Then my gaze shifted just briefly to the bedroom door, still ajar.
Then I smiled. "I will just have a bite," I said casually.
Next, I picked up the spoon and scooped a small portion of the sweet potato. The reaction was immediate.
"No—!"
The caregiver rushed out of the bedroom, her face pale, eyes wide with panic. "Luna, please—don't eat that."
I didn't lower the spoon. Instead, I turned my head slightly and looked at her. "Why?"
She froze, her gaze darting to Rosalie.
Rosalie, in turn, was staring at her hard, silent, and unblinking.
