Meryl's POV
After escaping to my room and soaking in a scalding bath that failed to wash away the tightness in my chest, I pulled on comfortable clothes and headed downstairs. I fought to keep my mind blank, refusing to replay the devastated expression on Andre's face when he walked away.
The living room felt suffocating as I entered, holding my breath without realizing it. My stepmom glanced up from arranging dinner plates, and that familiar maternal intuition flickered across her features. The kind of look that sees straight through any facade.
"You and Andre had words?" she asked, attempting casualness while worry leaked into her tone.
I started to respond, ready to confess that it went beyond a simple argument into something catastrophic where I said things that carved deep wounds. But she continued before I could speak.
"He stormed out looking furious. Really furious."
That stopped me cold. "He did?"
