By the time I got home, the sky had already darkened.
The mansion was lit again, warm light spilling through the windows in a way that made it feel lived in, familiar. For a brief second, I hesitated at the door before stepping inside, as if I already knew what I was walking into.
Harley was there.
He stood near the kitchen island, his sleeves rolled up slightly, one hand resting against the counter while the other held a glass of water. He didn't look up right away, but I knew he had heard me.
"You're home," he said.
It was the same tone as before.
Calm. Even.
Distant.
I slipped off my shoes and set my bag down near the entrance before walking further inside. "Yeah. It was a long day."
He nodded once, taking a slow sip from his glass. The silence that followed stretched just a little too long, settling into the space between us like something neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
I moved toward the counter, reaching for a glass of my own. The simple act gave me something to focus on—something normal.
"How was work?" he asked.
"Busy," I replied. "Same as usual."
Another pause.
Then—
"You seem to be enjoying it."
I glanced at him, caught slightly off guard by the comment. "I always enjoy my work."
"That's not what I meant."
His voice hadn't changed.
But something beneath it had.
I set my glass down slowly. "Then what did you mean?"
Harley finally looked at me.
Really looked at me.
His gaze was steady, searching in a way that made it hard to hold for too long.
"You seem different lately," he said.
There it was again.
Different.
I let out a quiet breath, crossing my arms loosely as I leaned back against the counter. "You've said that already."
"And you never answered."
"I didn't think it needed an answer."
He held my gaze for a moment longer before looking away, his jaw tightening just slightly. It was subtle—easy to miss if I wasn't paying attention.
But I was.
"Who were you with today?" he asked.
The question landed softer than it should have.
Almost casual.
But not quite.
"At the hospital," I said.
"That's not what I asked."
I frowned slightly, something defensive rising before I could stop it. "I was working, Harley."
"I know that."
"Then why does it matter?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he set his glass down and straightened, his posture shifting just enough to close some of the space between us without actually moving closer.
"It doesn't," he said.
The words sounded right.
But they didn't feel right.
Because if it didn't matter—
He wouldn't have asked.
Silence settled between us again, heavier this time.
I picked up my glass, taking a small sip just to break it, to give myself something to do. "You're acting like I did something wrong."
"I didn't say that."
"You don't have to."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Harley's gaze returned to mine, sharper now, like something had finally pushed past the calm he'd been holding onto.
"Then stop assuming," he said.
I blinked, caught off guard by the shift.
"I'm not assuming anything," I replied, though my voice had softened slightly. "I just don't understand what you want from me."
That—
That made him pause.
Really pause.
Like he hadn't expected that question.
For a moment, I thought he might answer.
Say something.
Anything.
But then his expression closed off again, the flicker of something real disappearing just as quickly as it had surfaced.
"Nothing," he said.
The word landed heavier than anything else he had said.
I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly around the glass before I set it down. "Right."
Neither of us spoke after that.
There was nothing left to say.
Or maybe there was too much.
I turned away first, grabbing my bag from where I had left it. "I'm going upstairs."
He didn't stop me.
Didn't say anything as I walked past him toward the stairs.
But I could feel it.
That quiet tension still sitting between us.
Unresolved.
Unspoken.
And somehow—
Worse than before.