The door shut behind him with the softest click, but in the hush of the room.
She was still folded, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around her shins like she could hold all the broken pieces together. Her whole body shook with every ragged sob, shoulders jerking, breath coming in little wet hitches that hurt her throat.
Tears poured hot and endless, sliding down her cheeks in thick rivers, dripping off her jaw in heavy drops that landed on the gown bunched in her lap.
Each drop left a stain that spread slow.
Her fingers were twisted so tight in the delicate lace of her skirt that the knuckles had gone bone-white, nails digging painful half-moons into her own palms.
Devon didn't speak.
He just moved.
One slow, deliberate step.
Another.
Another.
Boots silent on the thick cream carpet, the same carpet that had soaked up her tears minutes ago.
