Calla's POV:
The tray trembled slightly in my hands as I stood outside her door. In it was a bowl of warm soup and soft bread with sliced strawberries, the way she liked. I’d even sneaked in a tiny chocolate, something I knew Greta would never approve of this late.
I exhaled slowly then knocked gently at the door. “Egi,” I said softly through the door. “I know you’re angry. I know you don’t trust me. But… can I come in?”
No answer and it stung. I would've thought that the bruises were from Isa but I didn't see the new cuts yesterday or the day after.
“I brought food. Not just food,” I added quickly, “I was thinking—I could read you a story. Sing a lullaby. Or are you too old for it, my stubborn queen?" I giggled.
Still nothing.
I touched my forehead to the door and closed my eyes. “I’m not here to hurt you. I know I haven’t been good at showing it, but… I care about you. You’re not alone, Egi. You’re not ever going to be alone again.”
The door creaked open just a little. Her small fa
