The click of the door as Aldric exited was like a starting pistol that neither of them wanted to fire.
Silence rushed into the room, heavy and airless. Soren stood frozen behind his desk, his fingers still awkwardly splayed across the scattered papers he'd tried to straighten. Eris stood ten feet away, her hand clutching the festival document as if it were a shield.
They simply stared.
Seconds stretched into what felt like hours, the tension building until the air felt thick enough to choke on.
He looks so tired, Eris thought, her chest tightening with a sharp, unexpected pang. When did those shadows under his eyes get so deep? Has he even eaten since the arrest?
She wanted to go to him, to press her palms against his cheeks and force him to close his eyes, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. Say something, Eris. Don't just stand here like a statue.
