A Promise Kept

ROWAN’S POV

Three polite rapt on the wood.

“Rowan.” Mateo’s voice through the bedroom door, warm and concerned, exactly calibrated. “You haven’t eaten all day. I had the kitchen prepare something light — soup, bread. I’ll leave it outside your door. You don’t have to see me. Just eat.”

I don’t answer. The clink of a tray on the floor is followed by his footsteps retreating.

I don’t touch the tray.