Chapter 62 - Echoes of Regret

The silence between Ava and Orion was a living thing, thick and suffocating, as though the walls themselves held their breath.

Ava’s hand trembled slightly as she opened her door, eyes downcast, carefully avoiding the man standing just a few feet away. Orion. The air crackled with tension, unspoken words swirling like ghosts between them.

Neither of them could look at the other without seeing what they had done—or more accurately, what they hadn’t stopped themselves from doing.

She didn’t need to look at him to feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of the regret they both shared. It clung to them like a second skin, too raw to confront, too painful to forget.

Orion stood rigid, every muscle in his body taut with a mixture of anger and guilt. His eyes, normally sharp and unreadable, were clouded with something darker—self-loathing.

He despised himself for the night before, for the weakness that had consumed him, and for the guilt that now festered like an open wound.