EMBER’S POV

Three polite rapt on the wood.

“Ember.” Rafael’s voice through the bedroom door, warm and concerned, exactly calibrated. “You haven’t eaten all day. I had the kitchen prepare something light — soup, bread. I’ll leave it outside your door. You don’t have to see me. Just eat.”

I don’t answer. The clink of a tray on the floor is followed by his footsteps retreating.

I don’t touch the tray.

The second knock comes mid-afternoon. Softer, almost tentative.

“I understand you’re angry, and I accept that. You have every reason.” A pause. A sigh that sounds almost frustrated. “But starving yourself in a locked room isn’t going to bring...