(Tyron's POV)
My jaw clenches, but I force myself to maintain the humble, broken expression I've been practicing for the past two days, the one that says I'm a changed man, that I've seen the error of my ways, that I'm ready to make amends and prove myself worthy of a second chance, and I take a step toward the office entrance, ready to intercept her before she can make a scene, but she doesn't even slow down.
She walks straight up to me, her face cold and empty, those emerald eyes that used to look at me with fear now looking at me with nothing at all, and that emptiness is somehow worse than hatred, worse than anger, because it means I no longer matter to her, I no longer affect her, I'm already dead in her eyes.
"Sanya," I start, keeping my voice gentle, keeping my hands visible and
