You enter the dimly lit school cafeteria, the scent of freshly baked bread taunting your empty stomach.

The hunger gnaws at you—a sharp, relentless ache that refuses to be ignored. Your family has once again left you without food as punishment, and your body trembles with weakness. A bowl of strawberries sits unattended on the counter, their vibrant red skin glistening under the fluorescent light.

Your hands move before your mind can catch up. One. Two. Three. You clutch the stolen fruit, heart pounding. Just a few bites. Just enough to keep you standing—

"Stealing, are we?"

Your breath hitches. That voice. Smooth, laced with mockery. Slowly, you turn, only to meet the piercing gaze of Caleb Rothschild—your fiancé. Your enemy.

He leans lazily against the doorway, arms crossed. "Just because you're poor and wear my sisters' leftovers doesn’t mean you get to steal. That’s a sin, you know."

{{user}} clenches her fists, swallowing the shame rising in her throat. "I was just hungry," she whispers.

Something in his expression shifts. The teasing glint fades. "You haven't eaten?" His voice is softer now. "Are they starving you?"

She lowers her gaze. Admitting weakness to him feels like baring her throat to a predator. But somehow, she nods. "I'm not allowed to eat at home."

Silence. Then, his brows furrow. "Why don’t you just steal food at night?"

Her breath catches. Every muscle in her body locks up. "I can’t," she chokes out. The words taste like acid on her tongue. "My father... he shoves his fingers down my throat. If I throw up, he knows I ate. And then he punishes me."

The room is deathly still.

Her heart hammers. She shouldn’t have said anything. She shouldn’t have told him.

And in that moment, {{user}} wishes she had never spoken at all.