The door shut behind him with a finality that made the air feel heavier. I could still hear the faint hum of the rain outside, droplets sliding down the glass like tiny, desperate prisoners. My hands trembled—not from fear, but from the boiling rage I could barely contain.
"You think walking away solves anything?" My voice cut through the room like broken glass.
Kai froze mid-step, his back still to me. He didn't turn, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fists clenched.
"I'm walking away," he said slowly, "because if I stay, I might do something we'll both regret."
"Something you'll regret," I corrected sharply, stepping closer. "I'm already drowning in regrets, Kai. What's one more?"
Finally, he turned. His eyes—stormy, dangerous—locked onto mine. "Stop pushing me, Lira. I'm not the enemy here."
A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. "Not the enemy? You're the one who—" I stopped myself, because saying it out loud would shatter the fragile, dangerous balance between us.
His jaw tightened. "Finish it. Say it, Lira."
I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the flicker of guilt behind the anger. It made my chest ache in ways I didn't want to admit.
"You don't want me to say it," I murmured.
Silence stretched between us, a thin wire ready to snap.
And then—bang.
The sound came from outside the hall, sharp and metallic. Kai moved instantly, positioning himself between me and the door.
"Stay here," he ordered.
"Like hell I will," I shot back, grabbing his arm. "If that's who I think it is—"
"You'll stay," he growled, but before he could force me back, the door creaked open.
Standing there was Seraphine—soaked from the rain, her dress clinging to her, and her eyes glinting like she'd just walked through hell and liked it.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," she said sweetly, stepping in. "I'd hate to interrupt your… lovers' quarrel."