Isla’s POV
Teo doesn’t step all the way in at first.
He lingers just past the threshold like he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to exist in my space, one hand braced casually against the doorframe. The hallway light spills in behind him, outlining his shoulders, casting his face half in the shadow.
I gesture toward the chair by the window.
“Sit,” I say. “You’re making me nervous hovering like that.”
He chuckles softly and obeys, lowering himself into the chair with a sigh that sounds heavier than it should. He leans back, legs stretched out, hands clasped loosely over his stomach.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence doesn’t feel awkward. Just… loaded.
“So,” he says eventually, glancing up at me. “How’s Zayne?”
The way he asks—careful but genuine—loosens something in my c
