Maya's POV
I had barely arrived at the office and hadn't even settled into my chair when Owen materialized behind me like some apparition, startling me half to death.
"Maya," he spoke in a voice so hollow it sent chills down my spine.
"Aaaaahhh!" I spun around to find him looking like a ghost of himself—dark circles shadowing his bloodshot eyes, his usually neat hair in complete disarray. "Matthew, Owen! You scared the life out of me!"
"Sorry," he mumbled, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Didn't mean to."
Concern immediately replaced my fright. "Hey," I said gently, lifting his chin with my finger. "What's going on with you?"
"Can we have some coffee?" he asked, his voice small and fragile like a child's.
"Of course." I guided him toward the break room, poured us both a cup, and waited for him to speak. "Tell me what's happening."
"Thea is leaving," he blurted out, the words seeming to cause him physical pain.
