He didn’t hear me, or he chose not to.

“What do you even do all day, Elowyn?! Sit around while I pay for this place? Seriously, Wyn. One job. One shirt. You live off my money, eat my food, and you can’t even do this?! You’re a leech!”

I stood frozen. My hands shook, but I said nothing. What could I say that wouldn’t make it worse?

“And that friend of yours downstairs—Saffron, or whatever—you spend all day gossiping with her about who knows what! Blah, blah, blah! But nothing gets done here!”

“Thane, please…” I whispered. A sudden wave of nausea hit me, followed by a stabbing pain in my abdomen. I gripped the wall to steady myself. A metallic taste filled my mouth, the room spinning faintly as if the walls were tilting.

He scoffed, threw on another shirt, and slammed the door as he left. The sound of his departure echoed in the silence, as sharp as the ache twisting inside me.

By noon, I could barely stand. Each step felt like trudging through water, heavy and slow, as if my body no longer belonged to me.

My vision blurred, and the pain became unbearable. The tiles seemed to shift beneath me, a dizzying swell of light pressing at my eyes. I collapsed in the kitchen just as the boys finished lunch.