Grace stood in the doorway, her hand lingering on the knob as if it were a lifeline.
She hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her discomfort palpable.
Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding Mike's curious gaze. The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension.
"Hey, Mike," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. The hesitation in her tone made it clear she was struggling to find the right words. Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to continue. "Good to see you again."
"Same here," Mike said, staring at her without giving away his thoughts.
She moved closer, her steps slow and deliberate, as if each one required immense effort. Her fingers now fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, twisting the fabric into tiny knots. "Uhm, about earlier," she started and Mike raised an eyebrow.
