My hand trembled slightly as I adjusted my bag. I wanted to look away, to find something safe to stare at, the wall, the table, anything. But I couldn’t. His eyes wouldn’t let me.
He took one small step toward me, slow and quiet. The sound of his shoe against the floor was only noise in the room. Then another step. My pulse jumped, racing faster than my breath. I gripped the strap of my bag until my knuckles hurt.
The closer he got, the colder the air seemed to grow-or maybe it was me. Maybe it was the way his silence pressed against my skin, heavy and unreadable. He stopped just a few away, close enough for me to see the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his jaw tightened as he studied me.
His voice, when it came, was low-too calm, too careful. “You look..” he paused, as if sear
