[LINA]
"T-thanks . . . ." I managed, wrapping both hands around the glass as if it could shield me from whatever this was turning into.
I took a sip—too quickly, too much—and nearly coughed.
I forced myself to swallow, even though the milk suddenly felt heavy in my throat. I didn't want to be standing there with him like this.
Not because I didn't want to see him. But because I knew exactly what I'd feel if I stayed too long.
And yet—I didn't go back to my room.
I should have. It would've made sense. I could've sipped the milk alone, gone back to pretending he was just my bodyguard and nothing more.
But instead, I stood there in the kitchen, back straight, eyes averted, quietly drinking.
And waiting.
Dylan leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. The overhead light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles, the quiet intensity he always carried like armor. His gaze never left me.
The silence grew long and taut.
