(Lara's POV)
The elevator doors closed, sealing the tension inside like steam trapped in a pressure cooker.
I stood beside Steven as we rode down to the private garden floor of Andy's building — a quiet, dim level with lanterns and benches facing a fountain. A calm space.
At least, it was supposed to be.
Steven had texted me only two minutes earlier:
[Steven]: Can we talk outside? Just us.
My heart had leapt.
He never asked first. I was always the one initiating. So the fact that he reached out… I thought it meant something good.
But now?
Now I wasn't sure.
He was too quiet. Too controlled. Too unreadable.
The elevator chimed. We stepped out. The door slid shut behind us.
I took a breath and smiled gently.
"What happened upstairs?" I asked. "You're usually calm, but tonight you looked… shaken."
Steven didn't sit. He stood by the railing, hands in his pockets, staring at the reflection of lanterns shimmering in the fountain water.
