Square one.

Ares' POV

Day six of bed rest.

I arrived at Dahlia's door a few minutes past eight in the morning. The air was still, heavy with an unspoken tension. I pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges breaking the silence. Dahlia lay in bed, her back to me. She didn’t bother to look my way.

"Morning," I said, my voice cold and detached. I waited for a response, but none came. She stayed silent, eyes fixed on the wall. I didn't expect much; I knew how she felt about me. I approached her bed, my footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted floor.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral. Again, silence. She was giving me the silent treatment, making it clear she wanted nothing to do with me. My patience, already thin, began to wear down.

I left the room and headed to the kitchen. I wasn't doing this out of kindness but out of obligation. I prepared a simple breakfast—toast, eggs, and a cup of tea. Carrying the tray back to her room, I set it down on the bedside table.

"Ea