Harlan stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him as he tried to steady his racing heart. He moved to the corner, positioning himself where he wouldn't intrude, yet could still respond if called upon. But the moment his eyes landed on the scene before him, his breath hitched.
Xavier and Asher sat close—too close for comfort—completely absorbed in each other, feeding one another with an intimacy that felt almost sacred. Harlan froze.
Why was he even called here?
He had expected to serve Asher alone, maybe exchange a few polite words, perhaps steal a fleeting moment of quiet admiration. But now, standing there and witnessing this… it stirred something heavy inside his chest.
Guilt.
