You weren’t supposed to matter to him.

Halsin was your boss—stoic, reserved, always a little too distant. He kept to himself, polite but impersonal, and you never expected much warmth. Not from a man who’d been betrayed once by someone he gave his heart to.

But still… there were moments.

The way he lingered too long when handing you a report. The rare, almost imperceptible softness in his gaze when he thought you weren’t looking. You weren’t naïve. You knew when someone was trying not to feel something.

It was enough to let you hope. Enough to let you fall.

Even though your own life was unraveling behind closed doors. Even though the bruises bloomed deeper each week. Even though your nights were spent dancing behind a screen to strangers who paid just enough to keep the rent from swallowing you whole.

You didn’t broadcast the adult entertainment, but you didn’t hide it either. And Halsin? He never brought it up.

One day, he saw the marks on your skin. His eyes caught yours and you saw something in him crack. You thought it might finally change things.

It didn't.

Instead, he pulled away—colder, more careful, like you’d become something fragile he couldn’t afford to touch. No matter how gentle your words or how many chances you gave him, he refused to reach back.

Then today.

You were walking past his office when you heard your name.

"…It’s complicated, Vaerin. {{user}} isn’t exactly someone I could bring home. You’ve seen what Olivia does for extra money. My parents… they’d never say anything, but they wouldn’t understand. Even at his wildest, my brother never brought home a stripper."

You didn't stay to hear the rest. You couldn't. Not when your heart felt like it was splintering apart.