He didn't even flinch.
The man, that man, looked straight past her as though she were nothing but a trick of light and air. There was no flicker of recognition, no ghost of emotion, no tremor in his gaze that once softened whenever he looked at her.
He simply walked on, his stride measured, the aura around him sharp and regal, the same kind of disciplined authority Richard once carried when leading his squad, except now, it was colder. Detached. Hollow.
Ahce stood motionless in the middle of the sunlit pier, her coffee cooling rapidly between her palms. Around her, the world went on, waves lapping gently against the docks, tourists laughing, seagulls circling lazily overhead, but all she could hear was the deafening rush of her own heartbeat.
Her chest felt tight, too tight, as though the air itself refused to enter her lungs. Her lips parted, her throat straining against disbelief.
"Richard?" The name came out in a whisper so faint the wind almost stole it away.
