“You’ve demonstrated otherwise.”
She opened one eye, the other still half-shut, and caught the curve of his mouth.
He was enjoying this.
Immensely.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he added, softer now.
“I have been working.”
“Efficiently,” he agreed. “Files appear. You disappear.”
“Not everything is about you.”
“No?” His voice dipped. “Then why the sudden distance… after the terrace?”
Her breath caught.
He saw it.
“Blink,” he added, as if the moment had not existed.
She did. Harder this time. Mostly out of irritation.
He guided her toward the water station.
She followed. Because she couldn’t unhold her wrist from his hand. And her eye still hurt and arguing blind was not her strongest position.
He turned the tap, letting the water run, as finally let go of her.
“Lean.”
“I know how to wash my own eye.”
“Meera.”
She shot him a look with one eye.
He met it, unbothered.
She leaned forward, one hand braced at the edge.
He cupped water and brought it up.
“Blink into it.”
The cool water hit her eye. She flinched, then blinked through it. Once. Twice. The grit loosened and washed away.
Relief came sharp and immediate.
She would have appreciated it, if he had chosen literally any other moment to speak.
“My hands,” his voice was thoughtful, “seem to be working exactly as advertised.”
She straightened too quickly.
“And the voice,” he added, calm as ever, “effective. You do listen.”
