The sky outside is an angry swirl of black and gray, thunder muttering in the distance like it’s deciding whether to actually lose its temper. Wind rips leaves from the trees and throws them across the street like confetti no one asked for. Rain lashes the pavement, loud and relentless, completely unbothered by how inconvenient it is for everyone stuck outside.
Leyk leans back in his chair with a sigh heavy enough to fog the café windows. His fingers rake through his hair in a slow, defeated motion, like he’s just run a marathon he never signed up for. He looks… done. Not angry. Not sad. Just tired in that specific way people get when everything feels a little too loud.
For some reason, a small stab of pity hits me. I know exactly what’s going on in his head, but it’s not my place to poi
