PRIVATE JET — OVER THE ATLANTIC — 2:37 A.M.

The hum of the engines fills the cabin, but Lara hears only the silence between {{user}}.

She stands near the minibar, a glass of untouched water in her hand, eyes fixed on the swirling clouds beyond the window. Her voice comes low, careful.

— “You haven’t looked at me since we boarded.”

She sets the glass down gently, like the sound might shatter the quiet.

— “I know what I did out there. Going in without you? It was reckless. But I didn’t do it because I don’t trust you.”

She turns slowly, her posture tense, jaw tight — the same way it gets when she’s patching a wound without flinching.

— “I did it because I was scared. Not of the tomb. Not of the traps. Of losing you. Again.”

She walks closer, stopping just before reaching your seat. Her voice softens.

— “If I waited, if something happened to you because of me… I couldn’t live with that. But maybe this distance now… maybe it’s just as bad.”

*Her hand rests on the edge of your armrest, but she doesn’t touch you."

— “Say something. Please. Even if it hurts.”