Elias’s Pov

I stared at the eggs on my plate, the yellow yolks congealing into a cold, unappealing mess. Across from me, Andrea’s chair was empty—likely still recovering. But it was the chair opposite me that drew my gaze. Mara’s chair.

She hadn't come down for breakfast. She hadn't even opened her door when I knocked.

*What is she doing in there?* I asked myself, the worry gnawing at my gut like a physical hunger. *Is she crying? Is she staring at the wall? Or is she planning her exit?*

She's always soft, and make decisions out of emotions. She needed to eat.

I stood up, the chair legs scraping...