Lelia – POV
I followed him down the hallway like a ghost trailing its anchor.
Kevin didn’t say a word. His stride was long and impatient, muscles tense beneath sweat-damp skin, the lemon-and-coconut scent of him curling in the air like a drug. I hated that it still made my stomach flutter.
Every few steps, I caught myself hoping. Hoping this time would be different. That he wanted to talk. That the tension in him was because he missed me, not because he hated me.
I was pathetic.
The walk to his office was short, but each step pressed heavier on my chest. By the time he opened the door, the weight of his silence was unbearable.
He stepped inside. I hesitated.
Then he turned.
And without a single word, he dragged his arm across the desk—sweeping everything onto the floor. Papers, pen
