As I left the dining room, my pace was deliberately slow, my mind too cluttered with thoughts of Layla to focus on where I was heading.
The hallway was dimly lit, with the faint hum of activity from the other guests filtering through the walls. I wasn't in a hurry to get back to the room.
The truth was, I wasn't sure what I'd find when I got there Layla pretending nothing happened, her walls up as usual, or maybe something entirely different.
The memory of her bold words earlier, her soft defiance, kept replaying in my head like a stubborn song.
I turned a corner, my steps echoing faintly, and spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall near the elevator.
Maeve.
Of course.
She was scrolling through her phone, her signature smirk playing on her lips. The moment her gaze flicked up and locked on mine, the smirk widened into something sharper, more calculated.
