As Emily waited anxiously in the living room, she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Her breath hitched as she saw Aiden descending the staircase, each step measured and deliberate. He moved with a quiet grace, his expression carefully guarded as he approached her. Emily's eyes locked onto his, desperately searching for answers in his demeanour. But the subtle cues in his body language told her what she dreaded most. The air in the room felt heavy, her nerves amplifying every detail—the soft creak of the wooden stairs, the rustle of his clothing, the faint scent of rain still lingering in the air.
Aiden reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, his gaze meeting Emily's as he approached. His face, usually calm and composed, carried a hint of something she couldn't quite place—perhaps concern, perhaps resignation. He stopped a few feet away, his posture respectful, yet there was an underlying tension in his stance.
