The argument in the room had reached a tense peak, voices overlapping in hushed but urgent tones. Muchen was gesturing wildly, trying to keep his voice low while still making his frustration clear. Yunfeng had leaned forward on the bed, brows furrowed, voice even but firm. And Shao—Shao was trembling, pressed into the corner like a fraying wire, every breath labored and uneven.
Then the bathroom door opened.
The sound was quiet, just a soft click and creak—but it cut through everything like a blade.
The room went silent.
All heads turned, breath held as if time had paused for a split second.
Jai stepped out.
His head was lowered, damp hair sticking slightly to his forehead, face unreadable. He didn't look at anyone. His hands were curled loosely at his sides, but his knuckles were white.
