Ariana's POV
The house was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Mark and Mom had been gone for three days now, lost somewhere on a sun-soaked island, drinking cocktails and pretending their blended family wasn’t just... weird.
I stared at the bowl of cereal in front of me. The milk had gone warm, and the flakes were soggy and swollen. I hadn’t taken a single bite.
Roman’s voice still echoed in my head.
“Stay away from me.”
Not please. Not I’m busy. Not even one of his usual sarcastic shrugs.
Just cold. Blunt. Final.
I shouldn’t care. God knows he’s been nothing but a storm cloud since the day I moved in—towering, unreadable, always watching me like I was some sort of puzzle he didn’t want to solve but couldn’t look away from either.
But I did care.
More than I should.
I pushed the bowl away
