Asher

I watch Solange from across the table, her quiet demeanor niggling at me like a persistent ache. Her eyes are distant, her replies barely audible. My annoyance simmers beneath the surface, frustration mounting as I struggle to understand what's going through her mind.

"Alright," I finally break the silence, my voice tinged with concern when I can't take it anymore. "What's wrong?"

She looks up, meeting my gaze briefly before lowering her eyes again. "Nothing," she whispers.

But I know better. I've seen the doubt flicker in her eyes, the suspicion that I'm not being entirely honest with her. It stings, this lack of trust, and my frustration boils over into a surge of emotion.

"Tell me what I've done wrong and I'll fix it," I say, my throat burning like acid and I feel as if things are escalating out of control.

"Ash…," she begins, her voice too frail, too lacking in the feelings I know she has for me. Even if she's trying to bury them.

"You're mine." The words spill from my lips before I can stop them, my voice thick with raw emotion. "I've never felt this way about anyone before."

She freezes, her cup suspended halfway to her lips. Her expression is unreadable, a frozen mask that pierces through me like a knife. I reach across the table, my hand trembling slightly as I seek to bridge the distance between us.

But when my fingers brush against hers, she flinches, pulling away as if she doesn't want my touch. Hurt flares within me, a bitter knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I withdraw, my heart sinking as I realize the depth of her mistrust.

"I… I should start dinner," I mutter, my voice thick with disappointment. I rise abruptly from the table, needing to escape the suffocating tension that hangs between us. She's still in the kitchen with me and yet I feel alone. Lonely.

Solange remains silent, her gaze fixed on the chair where I just sat The rejection weighs heavily on me as I turn away from her and grab a knife. The sound of chopping vegetables fills the air and I clench the back of my teeth. There's a bitter taste on my tongue-bitter as fuck-and it's there because she rejected me.