21. Friday Night

Elena's POV

This was not what I expected.

It had been more than forty-eight hours since that moment—Rowan’s words, his touch, the silence that followed, the way he looked at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t decide whether to solve or destroy. But even after all that time, the feeling hadn’t left me. Like a thin film of unease clinging to my skin.

And now, on a day that already felt heavy and strange, my father just had to make it worse.

I was heading out the door, clutching my bag, already mentally half at work when his voice stopped me cold.

“Elena”, he said sharply, stepping out of the living room like he’d been waiting to ambush me. “Don’t forget—you have a date tonight.”

My spine stiffened. I turned slowly, biting back the sigh that clawed up my throat. “I remember.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, then extended a folded piece of paper with clipped movements. “This is the restaurant. Reservation’s under the boy's name. Eight o’clock sharp.”

I took the paper, nodding silently, but of