Alina’s POV
He’s doing it again — that thing that always makes me doubt where we stand. That quiet, unreadable calm that feels like distance wrapped in silence.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” The irritation slips out before I can hold it back. My voice sounds sharper than I intended.
Zayn exhales. “To be honest, Alina, I don’t know who he was. He mentioned your name, and I got worried… so I followed him.”
My brows knit. “You followed him where?”
“He wanted to ask me about a gift he could give you,” he says simply.
I blink. “A gift? Wait, what? I don’t get it.”
“I didn’t either at first,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But he explained that you’ve been doing a great job handling his project and he didn’t know what to give you in appreciation. That’s why he came to me.
