Ava didn't move. She didn't blink. She barely breathed.
She simply stared at Shen—at the man across the table whose smile was too soft, too rehearsed, too unreal.
Her fingers curled on the table's edge. Beneath her stillness, something inside her was trembling, something wordless and unexplainable. Her throat felt dry, saliva heavy and unmoving, as if even her own body refused to swallow what this moment might mean.
It wasn't his presence that unsettled her. It was the familiarity. And the silence between them that seemed far too loud.
"What is it that you're really after, Shen?" Ava finally asked.
Her voice dropped a register—quieter, steadier, more serious than she intended. But Shen noticed. She saw it in the way his lips gently pursed, like he was trying to smother a laugh or a sigh—or maybe both.
"I really like it when you sound like that," Shen murmured, dragging a finger lazily along the edge of his jaw. "It makes my heart flutter. Or maybe ache. Nostalgic... truly."
