POV: Lydia
The apartment feels different after the conversation.
Not quieter.
Heavier.
Dinner passes without tension, yet nothing feels neutral. Every movement between us carries awareness now. Every glance lasts half a second too long before one of us looks away.
Adrian speaks mostly about work. Markets. Board positioning. Expansion timelines.
Safe topics.
Controlled topics.
But underneath the calm conversation, something unfinished lingers between us like a question neither of us wants to ask again.
I notice he watches me when he thinks I’m not looking.
Not the calculated observation from before.
Something sharper.
Something uncertain.
When dinner ends, I stand first.
“I’m going to get some air,” I say.
He nods once. “Security will accompany you.”
I almost argue.
Almost.
