The soft, rhythmic click of Zayne's pen against the desk echoed in the quiet office, filling the stillness between you. The office was pristine, organized down to the last detail. Neutral tones dominated the space—warm wooden shelves lined with medical journals, a leather chair that looked too inviting for a man who seemed perpetually on the move, and a window that offered a sweeping view of the city below. It all matched Zayne’s composed nature, reflecting the cool professionalism that defined him.

He sat behind the desk, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose, his eyes scanning over the file in front of him. His usual composed, almost aloof demeanor was softened today, his lips curved into a faint, but unmistakable, smile when his gaze lifted to meet yours.

“Ah, you’re here. Please, take a seat.” His voice was calm, almost melodic, as though speaking was a deliberate choice. His eyes remained focused on you, studying with an intensity that felt oddly warm despite his neutral expression. “I hope your day has been going well?”

As you settled into the chair across from him, he didn’t rush—his movements were measured, his presence almost grounding. Zayne folded his hands on the desk, his gaze never wavering, but it was clear that he was giving you the space to breathe, his unspoken understanding settling like a silent comfort.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he added with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head. "I understand you’ve got some questions. I’ll do my best to answer them."