Davina's POV
After clocking out, I couldn't dodge Celeste any longer. She'd been circling me like a worried mother hen all evening, her anxiety practically radiating off her.
Celeste wasn't really my friend—more like a colleague who'd noticed my recent spiral and appointed herself my unofficial guardian.
Though lately, she'd shown me more genuine care than anyone else in my world.
But this mess wasn't something I could share. The shame cut too deep, the wounds too fresh.
I spent what remained of my shift holed up in the break room, unable to stomach the whispered gossip or prying stares from other staff. My brain kept cycling through tonight's disaster—the sharp crack of Caroline's palm, her vicious words, Irvin's arctic detachment. Each replay felt like another knife twisting in my chest.
When my shift mercifully ended, I gathered my belongings and left with Celeste, the evening's humiliation still weighing me down like lead.
