Still in his business suit, the dark fabric catching what little light seeped from my room. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly mussed, yet his posture remained composed—controlled, as though he'd walked straight out of some late meeting and right into my sleepless thoughts.
His expression was unreadable. A little cold. A little tired.
I blinked at him, still caught between confusion and disbelief. "You're here."
For a heartbeat, he didn't answer. His gaze swept over me, slow but intent, and then his voice—low and rough from exhaustion—broke the silence.
"You look pale," he said.
The words shouldn't have carried the weight they did, but something in his tone—flat, yet laced with concern—made my breath hitch.
"I… had a bad dream," I admitted, though the words felt too small for th
