Vivian walked up to Britney's room with calculated steps, her mind full of confidence.
Vivian knocked on the door, but Britney didn't answer. She knocked again, louder this time.
"Britney, it's me, Vivian," she said.
There was a long pause, then Britney opened the door. She was wearing a bathrobe, and her hair was a mess. She was consumed by her fury, her gaze piercing through Vivian with an intensity that could ignite a fire.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I brought you food," Vivian said, nodding to the plate in her hands. "I thought you might be hungry."
Britney glared at her and gritted her teeth. "I'm not hungry."
Vivian remained unfazed. "Are you sure? I made you a delicious soup. It's supposed to be really good."
She walked in and placed the plate on the table by the window, her smirk widening as she locked eyes with Britney.
