The room was cloaked in darkness, the heavy blackout curtains muffling even the city's distant glow. Joanne couldn't see his face, couldn't read his expression, but she knew he hadn't moved. The silence was unnerving, his stillness louder than any words.
"Am I scaring you?" His voice broke through the quiet—low, rough, uncertain. Like it cost him something to ask.
Click.
The nightstand lamp flicked on, casting a soft pool of amber light between them. Joanne instinctively clutched her robe, pulling it tighter around herself. Her bare skin recoiled not from fear, but from the sudden exposure of vulnerability. Jeffrey didn't move closer. He simply waited, allowing her that moment to shield herself.
It stung—seeing her so guarded against him. Was that how far they'd drifted? Was he now someone she braced herself against instead of someone she leaned into?
"You didn't get the letter?" he asked, his voice careful, too careful.
