The days that followed didn't bring peace—they brought awareness. The kind that slowly seeps into your mind and refuses to leave, making you notice things you once ignored, making you feel things you once controlled.
Zein remained strong, composed, untouchable on the outside, but internally… something had begun to shift, and she didn't like it.
It happened during something small.
Too small to matter.
And yet—
It did.
She had injured her hand while handling a sharp file edge—barely noticeable, barely painful—but when Ace saw it, something in his expression changed instantly. Not dramatically. Not openly. But enough.
"Give me your hand," he said.
Zein frowned slightly. "It's nothing."
"I didn't ask."
His tone wasn't harsh.
But it wasn't negotiable either.
She hesitated for a second—just a second—before extending her hand toward him, and the moment his fingers wrapped around her wrist, steady and careful, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Something quieter.
Something dangerous.
"You're careless," he said as he cleaned the small cut, his touch precise but unexpectedly gentle.
"And you're overreacting," she replied, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness.
A pause followed.
Then—
"You don't treat yourself like you matter," he said quietly.
Zein's eyes flickered slightly.
For the first time—
Something in her expression shifted.
"Because I don't," she said.
And that—
Was the first crack.