Ashley's POV
The dining room was heavy with silence. It wasn't the soothing kind that was comforting—it was thick, heavy, pressing down on me like an intangible weight. I was wedged between Roy and Liam, and I could feel tension wrapped around all three of us like shackles. Freya's anger lingered like a tempest about to erupt, and Steven—Steven just sat silently, as always, like he wasn't the source of everything.
I attempted to concentrate on my meal, but each mouthful was flavorless. I wasn't hungry. It was not possible to relish a meal when the atmosphere was so thick with unspoken words, repressed feelings, and quiet resentment.
The metallic ring of footsteps coming closer broke the strained stillness, and I looked up as Freja strode into the room. She entered amidst a whirlwind of emotions, her face set in unyielding lines, her fists locked at her sides.
"Where have you been today?" I asked, my voice softer than I had intended for it to be. It wasn't meant to be an interrogation,
