（Siena’s POV)
The dim glow of my phone fades, leaving me staring at the reflection in the black screen—my reflection.
Drumming my fingers mindlessly againstthe smooth surface of my desk, a hollow weight of regret settles over me.
Ollie lounges on the couch infront of my desk, scrolling her phone, absentmindley chewing on the end of a pen.
“He still hasn’t replied?” She asks, glancing at me from under thick luxuoripus lashes.
I shouldn’t expect a response.
Ollie purses her lips, twirling the pen between her fingers. "You’re spiraling," she notes, shifting her position. "I get it, but let’s not pretend this was ever going to go differently."
I say, “You know Zion has always looked down on me. Olie."
Olivia says, "Okay, let's wait him. By the way, Windhowl has kept your father's p
