Xavier stepped back inside and stopped short.
Arlen was standing right there, just inside the balcony door, like she'd been guarding it without realizing she was doing it. She hadn't gone back to bed. She hadn't even changed. Xavier's jacket was still around her shoulders, sleeves hanging past her hands, her hair messy in a way that didn't come from sleep.
She looked up when the door slid shut.
Their eyes met.
Xavier braced himself without moving. He felt it in his shoulders first, that instinctive tightening, already preparing to sit through another round of anger, another list of reasons he was wrong, and reckless.
He just waited.
"I'm sorry," she said.
The words landed wrong. Wrong enough that Xavier blinked once, caught off guard.
He stayed quiet.
"I shouldn't have gone at you like that," she continued, voice steady but thin around the edges. "I shouldn't have tried to pin my fear on you and call it concern, or act like my way of seeing things gets to override yours."
