Angela's POV
Aaron stepped closer. Every inch he closed made it harder for me to breathe. The hallway suddenly felt narrower, like the walls had shifted when I wasn't looking. I could smell his cologne—clean, sharp, mixed with something hotter beneath it. Anger, maybe. Or disappointment. I couldn't tell which was worse.
There was nowhere to hide. His eyes didn’t give me even an inch of space to run.
“I..." My voice cracked. The word came out useless. I swallowed and tried again, but nothing followed. Anything I said would sound like an excuse. And I had none.
I’d messed up—badly.
“You played me, Angela.” His voice was low, controlled. Not loud. Not explosive. That calm cut deeper than shouting ever could. “All this time… I thought you were different.”
Different. The word lodged its
