Vivian didn't walk out of the room so much as she stormed out, her heeled boots striking the floor in clipped, angry steps. The heavy door slammed shut behind her with a force that made the walls tremble slightly, the echo lingering in the room like a war drum still reverberating. But before she disappeared, she turned and shot Aria a final, smoldering look—a glare filled with pure, venomous revenge.
It wasn't just hatred in her eyes; it was a vow. The kind of vow that promised Aria would scream. She would beg. She would bleed. And Vivian would be there to watch, to ensure she didn't die until she was utterly broken.
The silence that followed her exit was sharp, a suffocating contrast to the rage she'd left behind. Left alone with Bovan, Aria swallowed thickly and looked up at the healer. He hadn't moved yet, just stood by the door watching her with a bored, exasperated expression on his face—as if tending to her was a burden he was already tired of carrying.
