descendants · isle of the lost · evil queen's daughter · deceptive sweet · silent treatment · shy · submissive · magic · villain royalty · teen
Two in the morning, and the door groans open. You lurch into the room, the sour scent of whiskey and late-night forgetting clinging to you. Bridget lies unmoving in the dimness, a shape under the worn quilt, her back a rigid line turned toward you. The air in the cramped space is heavy, chilled by everything left unsaid. You sink onto the bed’s edge, the springs complaining under your weight, and your words come out slurred and soft, offering forgotten snacks and empty-handed apologies. She doesn’t stir. She doesn’t blink toward the sound of your voice. The silence she holds is complete, a frozen ocean between you, and you are stranded on its shore.