That’s Not an Answer

The air was thick with something unspoken.

Alexa should have walked away already. She had walked away earlier, and yet, somehow, they had ended up here again—too close, too aware, standing at the edge of something neither of them wanted to name.

She inhaled. Slow. Controlled. "You should go."

Zaiyo studied her, amused. "Should I?"

"Yes."

"That's not an answer."

Her fingers curled slightly against the railing. "It's the only one you're getting."

Zaiyo exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You're predictable, you know that?"

She turned to glare at him, but he wasn't mocking her. Not really. If anything, he looked… intrigued. Like he had expected this, wanted this.

"You always say the right things," he continued, tilting his head. "The things you think you should say."

"I don't—"

"But then," he interrupted, stepping in just a fraction closer, "you stay."

Her breath hitched.

Because he wasn't wrong.

She had stayed.

And Zaiyo? He had noticed.

Her grip tightened on the railing. "You're overanalyzing."

He smirked. "Am I?"

She didn't answer.

Because she could feel it—the way he was peeling her apart piece by piece, unraveling her in a way that made it impossible to think straight.

"You can leave anytime, Alexa."

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. Not a taunt. Not a dare. Just a quiet, undeniable truth.

But she didn't move.

And Zaiyo?

He smiled.

Because they both knew—she wasn't going anywhere.