She studied him for a long moment, longer than was polite, her gaze sharp and unwavering. It wasn't anger in her eyes—it was calculation, precise and deliberate, like a puzzle she needed to solve.
She was searching his face for cracks, for exaggeration, for the slightest hint that he was projecting his own mess onto her life. Ryan stood still, letting her look, and somehow that stillness unsettled her more than defensiveness ever would have. The air between them seemed denser, charged with something unsaid, a tension she felt pressing against her chest.
Her confidence flared instinctively, rising like a shield she'd learned to carry early, a practiced armor she wore without thinking.
"I mean… I don't even know why I care," she said with a small scoff, folding her arms loosely, though the gesture did little to hide the unease prickling beneath her ribs.
