“Can we please talk?”
Maya didn’t answer right away.
She searched his face, her breath hitching—caught between the urgency in his eyes and the warmth of his hand still anchored to hers. Not tight. Not demanding. Just there.
The hallway beyond them hummed softly with movement—chairs scraping, distant voices blending into polite laughter—but right here, time felt suspended.
Grounding.
“Please, love.”
The word slipped out like a plea, soft but devastating. It threatened to pull her under.
Maya glanced toward the dining hall. The muted clatter of silverware, the low murmur of conversation—it all felt impossibly far away from this fragile, suspended moment.
She drew a slow breath and nodded once. “Okay.”
Relief flickered across his face. Damien gestured subtly toward the side corridor
