Rachel stood there in the corridor like someone had poured ice straight into her veins. Her fingers slowly curled around the strap of her bag. Her mouth parted slightly—not in surprise, but in something darker. Something bitter. Something poisonous.
The sight before her made her stomach tighten.
Mia.
In the doorway.
In her room.
Where her things used to be.
A slow, simmering glare filled Rachel's eyes, the kind that could peel skin from bone. She didn't speak—she didn't need to. Her thoughts alone were loud enough to rattle the walls.
Of course she's back. Of course she thinks she can just walk in here like she belongs. First Leon… now my room again? This girl needs to be put in her place. She thought.
Her gaze swept over Mia's stunned figure—frozen, wide-eyed, chest rising too fast, as though she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.
Good, Rachel thought.
Let her be confused and angry, that's what she wants.
