The air inside the office felt different the moment Zein Shoin stepped in, as if something invisible had shifted overnight and refused to return to how it once was, because the distance she had carefully maintained between herself.
Ace Craige no longer felt stable, no longer felt controlled, and no matter how much she tried to act the same—calm, distant, unaffected—there was something in the way her steps slowed slightly.
In the way her breath steadied just a little too deliberately, that gave her away, and what made it worse was that Ace noticed everything, the smallest change, the slightest hesitation, the things she didn't even realize she was showing, and as she placed the files on his desk like it was just another normal day, she already knew this wasn't going to stay normal for long.
"You're quieter today," he said.
"I'm working," she said.
"That's not what I meant," he said.
"Then say what you meant," she said.
Ace leaned back slightly.
"You're thinking too much," he said.
"I always think," she said.
"Not like this," he said.
"You don't know that," she said.
"I do," he said.
Zein exhaled softly.
"You assume a lot," she said.
"I observe," he said.
"That's worse," she said.
"Only if I'm right," he said.
Zein didn't answer.
"Look at me," he said.
"I am looking at you," she said.
"No," he said, "not properly."
Zein's eyes met his fully this time.
"I'm looking," she said.
"Then stop pretending," he said.
"I'm not pretending," she said.
"You are," he said.
"I said I'm not," she said.
"Say it like you believe it," he said.
Zein's voice faltered—just slightly.
"I'm not pretending," she repeated.
Ace watched her carefully.
"You hesitated," he said.
"…no, I didn't," she said.
"You did," he said.
Zein looked away.
"…this is unnecessary," she said.
"No," he said, "this is overdue."
Her fingers tightened slightly at her side.
"You're pushing this," she said.
"Yes," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
Ace didn't hesitate.
"Because you're not as unaffected as you act," he said.
"That doesn't mean anything," she said.
"It means everything," he said.
Zein's breath slowed.
"You're making this bigger than it is," she said.
"No," he said, "you're making it smaller."
A silence stretched between them.
"You didn't come yesterday," he said.
"I had work," she said.
"You always have work," he said.
"That's my responsibility," she said.
"That's your excuse," he said.
Zein frowned.
"You don't get to decide that," she said.
"I don't need to," he said.
"…that's annoying," she said.
"And yet you're still here," he said.
Zein didn't reply.
Because he was right.
"…this doesn't matter," she said quietly.
Ace stepped closer.
"Say that again," he said.
Zein held his gaze.
"This doesn't matter," she repeated.
Ace's voice dropped.
"Say it like you believe it," he said.
Zein's composure slipped.
"…I—"
She stopped.
Ace didn't move.
"Finish it," he said.
Zein shook her head faintly.
"…I don't know," she admitted.
The words felt heavier than anything she had said before.
Ace exhaled slowly.
"There it is," he said.
Zein looked at him, frustration and something else mixing in her expression.
"Stop acting like you won," she said.
"This isn't a game," he said.
"Then what is it?" she asked.
Ace's gaze didn't waver.
"It's real," he said.
Zein's breath caught slightly.
"…I don't like this," she said.
"I know," he said.
"Then stop," she said.
"No," he said.
Zein blinked.
"…why?" she asked.
Ace's voice was steady.
"Because you don't actually want me to," he said.
Zein didn't answer.
Because for the first time—
She couldn't prove him wrong.