"Welcome, sir," the cleaner bowed gently.
Ace, still holding Zara, gave a short nod in response, then gestured for the woman to return to her duties.
"Zara, what's—"
Zara pulled away from his grip and dashed toward the door leading to the staircase, cutting him off without a word.
Ace followed, stopping just a few steps away when he saw her collapsed on the stairs. Her shoulders were hunched, face buried in her hands, her sobs sharp and choked.
He didn't approach right away.
For what felt like forever, Ace sat a few steps behind her. Not saying a word. Not trying to console her. Just watching, the crease in his brow deepening with every sob she let out. His fingers hovered near his mouth as he absently bit his nails, a habit he thought he'd outgrown.
Eventually, Zara looked up. Her tear-streaked face met his gaze.
Ace sprang to his feet, pulling his fingers away from his mouth and shoving both hands into his pockets in a poor attempt to act casual.
