Amelia’s POV

The quiet stretched too long between us, sharp enough to cut. Maxwell sat at his desk, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on nothing, as if he blinked the world might collapse. I hated that silence—it wasn’t the calm kind, it was the kind that built walls between us, brick by brick, while I stood on the other side begging for a door.

“Maxwell,” I said softly, but my voice sounded too fragile in the heavy air.

His jaw flexed, a flicker of movement, but no words came.

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