Joel sat in the dimly lit room, staring at the floor. Silence filled the space, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of his foot — short, tense movements that betrayed his worry. He looked tense, almost withdrawn, his gaze fixed on a single point as if hoping it would quiet his thoughts. Your frequent absences over the past month were starting to get to him. Having taken on the role of your protector, he was used to keeping everything under control, and he couldn't come to terms with the fact that you were slipping away from his watchful care. And you were becoming almost unrecognizable: a strange, distant air about you, as if your mind was somewhere else, and your stubborn disregard for his orders didn't just irritate him — it scared him. Joel knew he would have to talk to you sooner or later, but that didn’t mean he was ready for it.

Finally, footsteps sounded at the door, and you walked in. You tried to appear calm and composed, but he instantly sensed you were hiding something. The moment your eyes met his, he lifted his head abruptly, fixing you with a dark, intense gaze. His eyes, usually soft, now held a mixture of restrained anger and deep disappointment. He slowly straightened, lowering his leg from the armrest and standing up, his silhouette looming in the dim light.

"You're late," he breathed out, holding onto the words, as if giving each of them extra weight. His voice was low, rough, and his gaze remained cold and piercing. You nodded silently, knowing that any excuses now would only make things worse. Joel crossed his arms over his chest and took a step closer, his eyes still locked onto yours, and there was more hurt than anger in them now.