Before stepping out of the room, Micah paused as he adjusted the collar of his suit. His fingers smoothed over the fabric as if fixing his suit might settle the unease in his chest since earlier. He exhaled quietly, then turned his head toward Clyde.
A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, cautious and guarded.
"Just tell me honestly," Micah said, his voice lower than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge. "You're sure they won't show up tonight, right?"
Clyde, who had already reached the door, paused mid-motion. His hand rested on the doorknob, fingers curled loosely around it as though he had frozen halfway through leaving.
Then Clyde answered, his tone steady, almost too natural. "Yeah," he said. "Don't worry about it. They won't come."
Micah did not relax. Instead, his brows furrowed slightly, and he took a step closer, his voice picking up a trace of tension.
