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Bitterness pooled behind Eric’s eyes, dark and sour, before he blinked it away.
“I know,” he whispered.
His shoulders sagged, snow-damp hair clinging to his brow. “I just wanted to explain,” he added, his voice rough with something dangerously close to regret.
He told himself he wasn’t disappointed, but the tight set of his jaw betrayed him. Still, somewhere inside, a fragile hope flared—one last wish that Cecilia might feel even a little for him.
Cecilia, however, wanted no shadows of hope, no half-lit corridors where misunderstandings could fester.
“Please don’t explain in the future,” she said, calm but distant. “I don’t care beyond office gossip. Only if it jeopardizes the company will I ask for clarification.”