It was around nine pm when Zane arrived at his mansion. His suit jacket draped over his arm as he strode into the spacious room, cracking his neck from the weight of work, trying to escape the void threatening to creep into him.
Halfway, Zane halted when he caught sight of his shirt. It was one he had taken off during a hectic day and dumped on the couch top.
Instinctively, Zane moved from his spot and approached the shirt. He picked it up, noticing the fallen button hadn't been fixed.
His cold, long fingers brushed the blank space as memory pulled him back to that quiet moment he'd ignored.
All he could see was Selina, seated on the couch, fixing the button instead of letting him throw the shirt away. She has once said to him that sometimes fixing things mattered more than replacement.
But he had never gotten used to it.
