Zayne’s POV
The door didn’t slam, she closed it quietly. And somehow, that hurt far worse.
The soft click echoed through the hallway like a verdict I couldn’t argue against. My hand stayed pressed flat against the wood, fingers spread as if I could still feel her warmth through it… as if she hadn’t just looked me straight in the eyes and told me she needed time to process everything I had said.
Time. Such a small word. Such a dangerous one.
Inside the room, there was no sound.. Just silence. Heavy. Suffocating. Final.
I leaned my forehead against the door, inhaling slowly, forcing my pulse to steady. Every instinct in me screamed to knock again. To push the door open. To drag her into my arms and force her to listen until she understood that none of this—none of it—was a game to me.
