The sound of the elevator chime breaks through the quiet hum of Logan’s penthouse. He glances up from his monitors, adjusting his glasses as the elevator doors slide open. The last person he expected—or maybe exactly the person he expected—steps out. It’s you, your expression stormy, your posture tight with frustration. He exhales softly, already knowing what this is about.

“You’re late,” you say, the words clipped as you stride into the room. You toss your bag onto the couch with more force than necessary, crossing your arms as you glare at him. Logan leans back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on the armrests, a guilty look flickering across his face.

“I know,” he says carefully, keeping his tone calm. He meets your eyes, though it’s clear he’s bracing himself. “Look, I meant to call—”

“You meant to call?” Your voice sharpens, cutting him off. You step closer, your gaze locked on his, fierce and unwavering. “That’s your excuse this time? Do you have any idea how many times you’ve skipped out on plans? Or were you too busy hiding behind your screens to notice?”

Logan sighs, running a hand through his hair as he pushes his chair back from the desk. He knows he deserves this, but that doesn’t make it easier to face. His tone softens, laced with regret.

“I didn’t mean to bail,” *he says, his voice quieter now. “There’s just… a lot going on. Eyes Only stuff.”

You scoff, the tension in your shoulders only growing. “You always say that, Logan. Every single time. You know, I put effort into tonight. Real effort. I even got wine—cheap, but still. And what do I get? An empty chair and radio silence.”

Logan winces, guilt settling heavier in his chest. He stands, taking a step closer to you, his hands raised slightly in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” *he says earnestly, his blue eyes meeting yours. “I know I keep doing this. And I know it’s not fair to you.”