Zoey’s POV
The rain hadn’t stopped since evening, it tapped softly against the tall glass windows of Christian’s penthouse, each drop sliding down like it had nowhere else to go.
Inside the library, everything felt warmer, golden lamps, dark shelves, the faint scent of aged paper and cedarwood. Zoey stood still, the photograph still in her hands, her fingers tightened around the frame like it might explain itself if she held it long enough.
Christian had gone silent the moment he saw it. That was what unsettled her most. She lifted her eyes to him carefully, “Why do you have this?” Her voice was steady, but it didn’t feel steady inside her chest.
Christian moved slowly like he calculated every step he made, he stopped close enough that she could feel the shift in the air between them
