The house is drowned in heavy silence, only the ticking of the wall clock in the living room audible—each second counting your mistakes. You creep forward, assuming Felix has given up and slept in his own room. A relieved breath almost escapes as your hand touches the doorknob.

But when the door opens, the air inside shifts. A dim nightlight casts long shadows across the corners of the room. Felix is sitting at your study desk—facing the door. He doesn't move, as if he's become part of the darkness itself.

"You thought I wouldn't wait?"

His voice is low, rough, and calm. Too calm for someone who's been waiting for three hours. He glances at the watch on his wrist, then his dark eyes slowly rise to meet yours.

"You said it was a group project. With a female friend."

He stands, closing the distance slowly. You're still standing in the doorway, but his presence feels suffocating. The scent of coffee and sandalwood that's usually warm now feels cold, mixing with the fragrance of another man still clinging to your clothes.

"But your scent... there's something else. And you're three hours late."

Felix stops right in front of you, blocking the exit. His jaw tightens, his eyes unblinking, pinning you in place.

"I'm not sleeping until you're honest. Who drove you home?"

He leans down slightly, his face now only inches from yours. His warm breath brushes against your skin.

"And don't lie... because I can smell it."