A Crown of Ashes (Whychoose Romance)

2. Bound to Obey

(Lila's POV)

The walk back home feels heavier than before, like the weight of everything I've been trying to avoid is pressing down on my shoulders. The silence of the night, once a refuge, now feels oppressive, as if even the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. My feet drag against the cracked pavement, the soles of my shoes worn thin from too many nights like this.

When I finally reach the house, it's as quiet as the streets. The front door creaks as I push it open, the familiar sound echoing through the empty hallway. Isaac's car is still in the driveway, but there's no sign of him. Good.

The kitchen light is off, casting long shadows across the floor. I slip inside, closing the door as quietly as I can. Every muscle in my body is tense, waiting for the inevitable sound of Isaac's voice cutting through the silence, but none comes. For once, the house is still.

I exhale slowly, feeling a brief flicker of relief. Maybe tonight won't be so bad after all. I tiptoe toward the stairs, the familiar creak of the third step under my weight echoing in the quiet house. As I make my way to my room, I don't even bother turning on the light. There's no need. I know every inch of this place by heart.

Once inside, I drop my backpack on the floor and kick off my shoes. The weight of the day settles over me, and I collapse onto the bed, the worn-out mattress sinking beneath me. My eyes close almost instantly, exhaustion taking over. I pull the blanket around me, trying to chase away the lingering chill in my bones.

For a moment, everything feels peaceful. The darkness of the room wraps around me like a cocoon, and for once, I allow myself to relax. But even as sleep begins to pull me under, there's a knot of anxiety twisting in my gut. Isaac's words from earlier echo in my mind, and I know—deep down—that tomorrow is going to be different. Worse.

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Morning comes too soon. The light from the window is pale, filtered through the dirty glass and heavy curtains. I open my eyes slowly, my body stiff from a restless night. For a moment, I just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, wishing I could stay in this half-awake state forever.

But I can't. Isaac will be expecting breakfast, and I know better than to keep him waiting.

With a groan, I force myself out of bed and shuffle toward the bathroom. The cold tile floor sends a jolt through me, waking me up fully. I splash water on my face, trying to wash away the lingering heaviness from the night before. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror looks just as tired as I feel—dark circles under my brown eyes, plain brown hair tangled and messy. I barely recognize myself anymore.

I tie my hair back into a loose bun and pull on a clean hoodie and jeans. The clothes hang off me, too big, but I don't care. It's not like anyone's paying attention to what I wear. Certainly not Isaac.

Downstairs, the house is still quiet. I move through the kitchen with practiced efficiency, pulling out the ingredients for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast—Isaac likes it simple, and I know better than to deviate from the routine. The smell of frying bacon fills the air, and I focus on the rhythm of cooking, letting it distract me from the gnawing anxiety in my chest.

As I set the table, I hear footsteps behind me. Isaac enters the kitchen, his presence filling the space like a shadow. I keep my eyes down, avoiding his gaze as I place his plate in front of him.

He sits down without a word, picking up his fork and knife. The sound of metal scraping against the plate makes me wince, but I don't react. I take a seat at the other end of the table, waiting for him to say something, anything.