Zina's POV
My gaze drifted toward the window, the curtains half-drawn but still letting in the faint glow of the streetlights. The glass reflected the room around us—the soft glow of the lamps, the shadows dancing along the walls. But for the briefest moment, I thought I saw something else—a flicker of movement outside.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled.
I froze, my heart stuttering in my chest as I strained to see past the reflection. Nothing. Just the night. Just shadows.
"What's wrong?" Jared's voice pulled me back, and I turned quickly, forcing a smile.
"Nothing." I shook my head. "Just my imagination."
His eyes lingered on mine, searching. Jared could always tell when something was off. It was one of the things I both loved and hated about him. He saw too much.
"Zina," he said softly, "don't do that thing where you pretend everything's fine when it's not."
I laughed nervously. "I'm not pretending. I swear."
