Gabbi spent the entire day on edge, her mind replaying Azreal's declaration hours ago. The idea of sharing a bed with him, again, made her stomach twist into tight, uncomfortable knots.
Despite wanting to believe the birdman had been joking, her experiences with him so far indicated otherwise. Azreal wasn't the type to joke, nor was he the type to go back on his word. She knew that much. And so, the thought of his towering presence beside her tonight left her feeling jittery and uneasy.
The routine remained the same.
Eat. Bathe. Sleep. Repeat.
Gabbi's days were mechanical, dictated by the few servants that brought her meals but never spoke. They were courteous yet distant, their eyes never quite meeting hers, as if she were some strange creature they couldn't comprehend. Her attempts to make conversation were met with tight-lipped smiles and nods, and it was clear they had no intention of engaging beyond what was necessary.
