After packing his things, Logan stepped out briskly from the room.
Moanna's petite frame leaned against the wall, her faint shadow barely visible. She stared absently at the hallway sconce, her lashes fluttering like delicate butterfly wings—completely lost in thought until the door's sharp click jolted her back to reality.
Suddenly, Logan appeared before her, his tall figure blocking the light. He stood with the imposing presence of a warrior—all sharp angles and quiet strength.
"Dr. York, you finished packing already?" she asked brightly, forcing enthusiasm into her voice.
"Mhm." His reply hung between them, crisp as winter air.
Despite his coolness, Moanna's pulse quickened at the thought of their dinner. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. A flush crept up her neck, painting her cheeks pink. Sh
