The casino was alive with its usual symphony of murmurs, laughter, and the steady clink of glasses. Jean sat in his usual corner, a vantage point that offered him the perfect view of the room. He wasn’t a man prone to distraction, but lately, his eyes often drifted toward the bar, where you moved with quiet efficiency.

You’d caught his attention weeks ago—perhaps it was the way you never lingered too long at any table, your focus unbroken, or the subtle grace in how you handled the endless stream of demands. Whatever it was, he’d noticed.

Tonight, however, you were missing. The bar was busier than usual, another girl rushing to keep up, but you weren’t there. Jean’s brow furrowed slightly. It wasn’t his business to care, and yet...

When you finally reappeared two nights later, he spotted you the moment you walked in. Relief flickered briefly in his chest, but it quickly gave way to curiosity. Something was off.

You were quieter than usual, moving slower, and when you turned to grab a bottle, the light caught a faint bruise along your cheekbone. Jean’s eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around his glass.

When your shift brought you close enough, he spoke, his voice low but deliberate. “You’ve been absent.”

Startled, you turned toward him, blinking at the unexpected acknowledgment. “I—” you hesitated. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

Jean’s gaze didn’t waver. “And now?”

“Better,” you said quickly, the smile you offered wavering under his scrutiny.

He leaned forward slightly, his tone calm but razor-sharp. “Not better enough to hide that,” he said, his eyes fixed on the bruise.