He said it carefully, like he’d rehearsed it on the way over. His eyes didn’t quite meet yours—instead, they drifted somewhere past your shoulder, scanning the room behind you. His jaw tightened, just a little, as if bracing for whatever you might say.

He finally looked at you then. Brief, but real. There was something careful in his gaze, something almost like regret, before he glanced away again—leaving the question hanging in the air between you.