The following days felt heavier than the city's rain.
Jaden's messages became shorter. His calls — rarer.
And when he did show up, there was something different in his eyes — something guarded.
Lydia noticed it all. The way his voice lost its warmth, the way he changed the topic whenever things got personal, and the way his phone seemed to light up with messages he'd never open near her.
Once, she caught a glimpse of a name on his screen — A.
He locked it so fast, she almost thought she imagined it.
At dinner that night, he wasn't himself.
The usual quiet confidence he wore like a suit had turned into silence — sharp and unreadable.
> "You've been distant lately," she said softly, setting her fork down.
"Is it work again?"
Jaden's jaw tightened. "Something like that."
He looked at her then — really looked at her — and Lydia felt her heart stutter. There was care in his eyes… but also fear.
> "If something's wrong, I'd rather you tell me," she whispered.
"I'm not afraid of the truth."
He almost smiled, but it faded too quickly.
> "You say that now."
Lydia frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
But Jaden didn't answer. He stood, slipping his jacket on with practiced ease.
> "I'll call you tomorrow."
He didn't.
That night, Lydia scrolled through their old texts — the late-night talks, the little jokes, the voice notes that once made her heart flutter. Everything now felt like it belonged to someone else.
Across town, Jaden sat in his car outside a dimly lit building — one only the elite of the city ever entered.
He wasn't here for pleasure.
Inside, Alexander was waiting for him.
> "You think keeping your distance will protect her?" Alexander said with a smirk.
"You're only making her more curious."
Jaden's hand tightened into a fist. "Stay away from Lydia."
> "I'm not the one she needs protection from, brother," Alexander said quietly.
"You are."
Jaden froze — because deep down, he feared that might be true.