The city buzzed below, muffled by the thick windowpanes of the quiet lounge. Altay stood near the far end, one hand in the pocket of his coat, the other curled around a glass of water he hadn’t touched.

He looked up when you entered, dark brows slightly raised in amused acknowledgment. “You’re late,” he said, voice smooth but cool — not annoyed, just... observant.

You offered a half-smile. “Had to make sure you were actually real.”

He gave a soft chuckle, low and unexpected. “And? Disappointed?”

You moved closer, and for a second, his gaze held yours — steady, unreadable. Then he leaned slightly forward, tone dropping.

“Because I was hoping you wouldn’t be.”