The door creaked open, reluctantly, like a wound refusing to expose itself. Kalisa stood in the doorway, her chin tilted upward, though her eyes betrayed the flicker of nerves she couldn't suppress.
"You kept me waiting," he said, his voice low but edged with steel. "Do you know how much I hate waiting, Kalisa?"
The name rolled off his tongue like a blade's edge, slicing into the fragile calm she had tried to build in the room. His glare was so focused it felt as though he could see right through her, peeling away every secret she had tried to bury.
Kalisa tightened her grip on the door, her knuckles pale. She drew in a steadying breath and met his gaze, defiance sparking in her eyes. "I don't know you," she replied, her voice sharp but trembling beneath the surface. "And I don't owe you an explanation for anything."
