The quiet between them lingered—thick, charged, and fragile.
Aisha stood in her doorway, fingers still curled around the edge of the door, her heart slowly settling into a steadier rhythm simply because Callen was there.
He remained just outside, unmoving, his presence filling the small space without a single touch.
Neither of them spoke.
Then footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Aisha stiffened first.
Callen’s head lifted immediately, his posture shifting—alert, predatory, every instinct snapping sharp.
The warmth between them faltered, replaced by tension.
A moment later, Daniel appeared at the end of the hall.
He held a bouquet of flowers—bright, carefully arranged, performative. His smile was soft, regretful, rehearsed to perfection.
“Aisha,” he said gently, as if he hadn’t s
