He quickly replayed their last interactions in his mind, searching for a reason, but nothing stood out.
The sadness in her eyes wasn't just general distress—it was directed at him, and that realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
His gaze sharpened as he took a small step closer, lowering his voice but keeping it steady. "What are you doing here?"
Ana flinched, just slightly, as if she hadn't expected him to speak yet.
Her fingers tightened into fists, then relaxed just as quickly.
She swallowed hard, still avoiding his eyes, before finally shifting her weight and straightening a little.
"I…" Her voice was barely above a whisper, strained, uncertain.
She hesitated, her throat working around words that refused to come easily.
She looked away—not toward an escape route, not toward the voices she had been listening to, but down at the ground, as if it held the answers she couldn't find.