Even when Soren heard the commotion outside, he barely spared it a thought. The noise faded into the background, distant and unimportant compared to the man standing in front of him.
Cael was apologizing.
Yes, he's apologizing.
His voice carried urgency, each word coming out a little too fast, a little too strained, as if he was afraid of being cut off before he could finish. A desperate edge ran through it, one that might have sounded sincere to anyone else.
But Soren didn't focus on the words, he watched how Cael's eyes looked.
And that was where everything fell apart.
Because while his voice wavered, his gaze did not.
It remained vicious in a way that felt familiar. There was still distance in it, a faint superiority that hadn't fully faded. It was subtle, easy to miss but not for Soren.
Soren had always been observant, even if he never showed it. So, even as Cael spoke like he regretted everything, his eyes told a different story.
And that small contradiction was enough.
