I sat at the long dining table, across from Bruno, my hands trembling slightly as I held my fork. The silence in the room was suffocating, and I could barely bring myself to take a bite.
My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt more alone than ever. This morning, it was just Bruno and me. The quiet was deafening, every clink of silverware against the china echoing louder than usual.
I glanced at Bruno, who was seated at the head of the table. His presence, cold and commanding, made the air feel heavy.
He hadn't said a word to me since I sat down, and I couldn't decide whether that was a relief or a punishment.
My stomach churned with anxiety, and even though there was food in front of me, I couldn't bring myself to eat. The mere thought of swallowing anything made me feel sick.
