The warehouse did not echo anymore. That was the first thing Tina noticed. After Elijah's confession—after the words had left his mouth, steady and reverent and devastating—the space seemed to absorb all sound, like the concrete itself had decided to listen instead of reflect.
Tina stood very still. Too still. Her vanilla-mint pheromones had gone strange—not the usual sharp chaos, not the playful volatility Andrew teased her about. This was uneven. Fractured. The mint was too cold, the vanilla too sweet, clashing instead of blending. A storm stalled mid-sky, refusing to break. Elijah stood a few meters away, posture straight, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on her with a devotion that bordered on worship.
"I never meant to hurt you."
He said quietly.
"But I can't keep lying."
