The room was dim, laced with the faint scent of lavender and alcohol. Reva sat on the couch, legs crossed, wine glass in hand. She didn't even look at him, except for her remark when he entered.
Xavier closed the door behind him.
"You're here too," he said, voice low.
No answer.
He stepped forward, hands in his pockets. "You could've at least told me."
Still nothing.
She took a slow sip from her glass. Her posture perfect. Face blank. She looked at him like he wasn't even there.
That silence? It stung more than any insult could.
"Reva, look—"
"You shouldn't be here." Her voice was cold. Unapologetic. "This is Angel's room."
"Yeah? Then I'll wait for Angel to tell me to leave."
Angel was sitting on the side table, scrolling her phone. She sighed loudly, like a tired older sister dragged into someone else's drama.
"Xavier," she said, looking up. "What the hell's wrong with you lately?"
Xavier blinked. "What?"
