Hellen forked into her omelette with mechanical precision, steam curling from the herb-flecked folds as she chewed slow, eyes fixed on her plate. I mirrored her across the coffee table, Pikachu onesie paws awkward around my fork, potato fry crunching salty between my teeth—breakfast a fragile truce, coffee's bitter steam sharpening the quiet tension.
"Are you angry?" I asked soft, emerald eyes searching hers over my coffee mug, raven curl tickling my cheek.
"Who knows?" she muttered, spearing a fry, blonde ponytail swaying faint as she shrugged—voice flat, but jaw tight.
"Hellen, please tell me," I pressed, leaning forward, onesie ears flopping earnest. My heart twisted; her ghosting post-launch cut deep.
She paused, toast halfway to her mouth, gaze lifting slow—alpha edge glinting. "Do you even care if I'm angry or not?"
"I care!" My voice cracked sharp, fork clattering down. "More than you know!"
