The door clicks shut behind me, the sound dissolving into the vast stillness of my office.
The city beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass walls glows in distant constellations of white and gold. Skyscrapers blink like silent witnesses.
My eyes find the couch immediately.
He's still there.
Deniz.
Curled on the stiff leather like a forgotten thing, his body folded into a position no one could sleep comfortably in.
His brow is furrowed even in rest, that same line of worry carved between his eyes. His arms are wrapped around himself, as if even in sleep he's trying to hold together something that's breaking.
I stop breathing.
He waited. The whole day.
While I slept in the warm, soft bed behind that door, he stayed here.
On this hard couch. In this cold room. Waiting for me to wake up.
My feet carry me forward without permission. I sink onto the couch beside him, close enough to feel the faint chill radiating from his skin.
He's shivering, just slightly, even in sleep.
