Zayne’s POV
Well… that didn’t land the way it sounded in my head.
The second the words left my mouth, the room changed temperature. Not metaphorically. It was like the air itself stiffened, pulled taut between three bodies that suddenly didn’t know where to stand anymore.
Isla hasn't said a word. She just stared at me.
Not with anger. Not with fear either. It was worse than both—something quieter. Something that looked too much like disappointment trying to hide behind concern. Like she’d reached a conclusion she hadn’t wanted to reach.
My throat tightened.
“Why would you ask that?” she said softly.
Her voice didn’t rise. She didn’t accuse me. She didn’t shout. That was the problem. When Isla was scared, she went quiet. When she was hurt, she went still. I’d learned that much alread
