The moment those words left her, they didn't fade—they stayed, hanging between them with a weight neither of them could ignore, because Zein Shoin wasn't someone who admitted things like that, and yet she had, and now there was no taking it back.
The stillness around them deepened, but it wasn't peaceful—it was charged, filled with something new, something unfamiliar.
"You should go," she said again, though her voice lacked its earlier firmness.
"No," Ace replied.
"Why are you still here?" she asked.
"Because you didn't mean that," he said.
"I did," she insisted.
"No, you didn't," he replied.
Zein looked away briefly before speaking again.
"I've always been alone," she said.
"And?" he asked.
"And I was fine with it," she answered.
"No," he said quietly.
Zein frowned slightly.
"What do you mean 'no'?" she asked.
"You got used to it," he said.
"That's the same thing," she replied.
"It's not," he said.
A silence stretched between them.
"Why do you care?" she asked after a moment.
Ace didn't hesitate.
"Because you don't," he said.
Zein's eyes flickered back to his.
"And that bothers you?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered immediately.
And somehow—
That simple honesty changed everything.