The living room light fell across Damian's face, carving shadows into the sharp planes of his features. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, the tip glowing and dimming.
He was still in an impeccably tailored suit. But something about him felt off. A frayed, depleted edge clung to him, at odds with his usual cold refinement.
Elodie noticed the ashtray on the coffee table, filled with crushed cigarette butts. He had been here a while. She hesitated, unsure whether to speak.
"Elodie." Damian's voice came out low and raw, carrying a nameless darkness. "Did you forget what I told you?"
'What is he talking about?'
She ran through the past few days in her head. She couldn't find a single thing she had done to provoke him. Not just provoke. Since that moment in the underground parking
