SUZAN'S POV
He looked tired—exhausted even. I didn't know what to say as I watched him take a sip from his coffee. His sharp features were dulled by fatigue, dark circles clinging stubbornly beneath his eyes. His skin looked paler than I remembered, and his hair was longer, unkempt, as if he had stopped caring about his appearance altogether.
"You're staring holes into my skull," he muttered, lifting his gaze to meet mine.
I stiffened at the dullness in his usually piercing dark eyes. There was no mischief, no teasing glint—just exhaustion and something deeper, something I couldn't quite place.
"Sorry," I murmured, quickly averting my gaze to my coffee.
A thick silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft clinking of his cup against the table as he set it down.
