For the first time since that confrontation, the studio felt quiet. Too quiet.
Liora kept her focus sharp — or at least she tried to. Every brushstroke, every edit on her screen, every note she scribbled down was deliberate. She'd promised herself she wouldn't let Adrian Novak, of all people, take up space in her head again.
And yet, the silence he left behind had a weight all its own.
He wasn't making comments. He wasn't challenging her decisions, correcting her work, or flashing that infuriating smirk that always made her pulse quicken no matter how much she hated it. He was just… there. Distant. Polite. Controlled.
Almost like she didn't matter anymore.
It should've been a relief. So why did it feel like she'd lost something she didn't even know she had?
"Hey, you okay?" Zara asked, glancing at her over the desk. "You've been staring at that slide for ten minutes."
Liora blinked, quickly switching tabs. "Just… thinking about the presentation flow."
Zara frowned but didn't push. She'd noticed it too — the way the air between Liora and Adrian had shifted. Even Ethan seemed to sense it.
By lunch, Liora had managed to avoid him entirely. She stayed with her friends, laughed at things she barely heard, and ignored the way her eyes kept drifting across the cafeteria. He sat with his usual group, quiet, detached — not even looking her way.
And that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
Later, when she went to pick up the prototype boards from the supply room, she found him already there, sleeves rolled up, focused on organizing equipment.
She hesitated at the door. "I'll come back later."
He didn't even glance up. "You can stay. I'm leaving."
His tone was neutral, almost empty. No teasing, no spark — just distance.
Something in her chest twisted. "Adrian—"
He froze at the sound of his name but didn't turn around.
She swallowed. "About what I said the other day…"
"You were right," he interrupted quietly. "You don't need me to protect you. Or anyone, apparently."
Her throat tightened. "That's not what I—"
"It's fine, Liora," he said, finally meeting her eyes. There was a strange calm in his expression, but his eyes — those eyes that used to flicker with fire and challenge — were unreadable now. "I get it."
The room felt smaller suddenly. The soft hum of the fluorescent light filled the silence between them.
She wanted to say I didn't mean it like that.She wanted to say stop looking at me like I'm a stranger.
But instead, she said, "Good. Then maybe we can finally focus on the work."
His lips curved slightly — not a smile, not really. "Maybe."
He walked past her, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne — the same one that always lingered after their arguments. But this time, he didn't look back.
Liora stood there, staring at the empty space where he'd been, her heart pounding for reasons she didn't want to name.
Because somehow, Adrian's silence hurt worse than any of his words ever had.