His eyes stay fixed on mine—dark, unreadable, guarded too carefully.
I lean closer. My voice drops into something quieter. Lower. Something meant only for him.
"Did you miss me?"
He doesn't answer. He just stares. His lips part—just a fraction—then press together again. No words come.
The sharp smirk stays on my lips, though inside something twists, something ugly and persistent that I can't name.
I let my gaze drift away from him, sweeping across the meeting room with deliberate slowness. Simple office chairs. Neatly arranged presentation files. Nothing extravagant. Nothing memorable. Just an ordinary company trying to grow in an ordinary building.
Nothing wrong with it.
Nothing remarkable either.
"So this is your stable dream job?" My voice is light, almost amused, but there's a blade beneath it.
My eyes shift back to him, cold and assessing. I let the silence stretch, let the weight of my gaze press down on him.
"I expected better."
