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Kyan heard the window creak behind him.
Boom. Nico was gone.
Kyan looked at himself in the mirror—shirt wrinkled, neck covered in love marks, hair a complete disaster.
He grabbed water, splashed his face like he was baptizing himself back into reality.
Then he fixed his shirt—kind of. Buttoned it wrong once. Redid it. Finger-combed his hair. Blinked at his reflection like: I look suspicious. But maybe I look like I cried? Yeah. Let's go with that.
He inhaled deep…
Then opened the door slowly.
The Don was standing there. Sharp suit. Sharp eyes. Sharp disappointment.
They locked eyes.
Kyan cleared his throat. Voice small. "Good morning, sir."
The Don blinked. "What were you doing in there?"
Kyan gave him a polite, too-sweet smile. "Just… washing up."
Long pause.
They stared at each other.
Then the Don's eyes narrowed. "You look… flushed."
Kyan nodded. "Crying. Deep emotions. I have a very soft soul."
Another pause.
