“You need to eat.”
“I don’t.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“Sit.”
I hesitate, just for a second, but it’s enough.
He stands.
The movement is sudden enough that it makes my body react before my mind does, my pulse jumping as he closes the distance between us in two strides.
“I said sit.”
His hand closes around my arm and forces me down into the chair before I can pull away, the pressure firm enough that I feel it all the way up my shoulder.
“I don’t want it,” I say, trying to pull my arm back.
He doesn’t let go.
“Eat.”
“I said no!”
His grip tightens sharply, pain shooting up my arm as he leans closer, his voice dropping.
“Eat, Liana.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach drop.
Not anger. Something worse. Expectation.
Like he already knows I’m going to do what he says.
Like this is already decided.
My hand shakes slightly as he releases me just enough to push the fork into my fingers, his eyes staying on me, waiting.
I don’t want to.
I take a bite anyway.
It sits heavy in my mouth, my stomach already turning, but I force myself to swallow because he’s watching me like this is something I owe him.
I take another.
Then another.
Each one harder than the last.
My body doesn’t want it.
I don’t want it.
But I keep going because I can feel him waiting for me to stop.
Waiting to see if I will.
