Odette's POV
stirred my drink with the straw, not because I wanted to, but because it gave my hands something to do.
The ice clinked softly against the glass — the only sound in this suffocating silence.
The drink was perfect. Expensive. Served in a crystal cup that sparkled under the light — the kind of glass I used to own by the dozen.
Once upon a time, I'd had finer. I'd hosted dinners where people begged to know which vineyard I ordered from.
Now I sat here, tasting nothing.
Because I couldn't stop replaying what just happened.
My heart hadn't stopped pounding since I'd sat down. It was ridiculous — I wasn't even talking to him anymore, and still, I could feel him.
I sat there, spine straight, pretending not to breathe. Pretending not to feel the weight of him still standing somewhere behind me.
