By the next morning, it was impossible to pretend nothing had shifted.
I felt it the moment I walked into the kitchen.
Max was already there.
Of course he was.
Coffee in hand. Phone on the counter. Calm, composed, exactly as he always was.
Like the night before hadn’t happened.
Like we hadn’t stood there—too close, too aware, one step away from breaking the very rules we’d set.
“Morning,” he said, glancing up briefly.
“Morning.”
I moved to the other side of the kitchen, putting just enough space between us to feel safe.
Normal.
Controlled.
“Sleep?” he asked.
“Eventually.”
He nodded once. “Good.”
That was it.
No mention of the tension.
No acknowledgement of what had almost happened.
Just… back to normal.
And for some reason—
That bothered me.
⸻
Elena appeared not long
