The club was too quiet.

Kaz noticed it most at night.

That was when the silence became unbearable, stretching through the halls, settling into empty rooms, creeping beneath doors like something alive. His office looked exactly the same.

Which somehow made it worse.

The fire burned low beside the windows overlooking Ketterdam, casting long shadows across scattered papers and untouched ledgers. Near the bookshelf sat a glass {{user}} had left behind weeks ago. Kaz still hadn’t moved it. He told himself it was because he hadn’t noticed. Because it didn’t matter.

Lie.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly somewhere downstairs. Kaz looked up immediately. Nothing. The realization settled cold beneath his ribs.

Again.

His jaw tightened.

Pathetic.

Kaz leaned back slowly in his chair, gloved fingers curling tighter around the edge of his cane as rain battered the windows hard enough to rattle the glass.

He should have been working. Instead he was staring at the office door like some reckless part of him still expected it to open. Still expected {{user}} to walk back in angry and alive and real enough to touch.

The worst part?

If they did Kaz no longer knew whether he would pull them close… or ruin everything all over again.