The frames of his glasses gleamed under the light, their edges catching a cold brilliance. Behind them, his eyes held a weighty depth calm yet piercing, impossible to decipher. When our gazes locked, a shiver ran through me. My defenses, carefully built and painstakingly maintained, fell apart in an instant.
There was no hiding from him. He saw through everything.
"You weaseled that answer out of me."
"I thought we were friends."
His expression barely shifted, yet there was a flicker of something that looked like disappointment. "In half a year," he began, his tone heavier now, "not once did you reach out. Not one message, not a single call either." I glanced toward the door and realized he had closed it quietly behind him, leaving me no way out.
"When did you figure it out?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
