—-------Ryder’s pov—-----
When I walked into the house in the evening, I wasn’t expecting anything particularly different.
Aubrey always kept to herself, her cold shoulder was nothing new. But tonight…it felt different. The air was thicker, the silence sharper. She wasn’t just cold, she was icy.
I closed the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the quiet space. Aubrey sat on the couch, her back straight, her posture tense as she focused intently on her phone. She didn’t even glance up as I entered, which—again—wasn’t unusual, but today it stung for some reason.
I cleared my throat, hoping to catch her attention. “Hey,” I started cautiously, “rough day?”
Nothing. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t even blink. It was like I wasn’t even in the room. I tried not to let it bother me, but hell, it did.
I ran a hand through my hair, walking further into the room. “Aubrey, seriously, what’s going on?” I pressed, my voice edging on frustration.