Page 73 of Dream On, Liar

Just stared at the floor like it had become the only thing worth looking at.

I noticed the tension in his jaw when I worked around his shoulder, his tattoos finding my focus more times than I could count. But then I noticed the way his fingers flexed against the edge of the table when I taped his dominant wrist, like he was holding something in place by force alone.

He was in pain.

I knew that much. Still, I didn’t push. There had been too much happening around him already. Too many moving parts. Too many expectations pressing in from every direction.

So I told myself it was just that.

Just exhaustion from a long day.

By the time we finished, he was already pulling his shirt back into place, movements efficient, almost mechanical, like he was trying to finish the interaction before it had a chance to linger.

“Thanks.” He simply said, without giving me a chance to reply, or ask.

The door swung shut behind him, and I found myself watching it a second too long, like I expected him to come back through it. I couldn’t place the reason why it hurt, why something in my stomach tightened.

“Did you guys have—”

“I’ll be back,” I cut off Faroq before he could finish his question, my feet moving before my brain could catch up to my actions.

I found him just outside the room, walking with that same clipped pace, shoulders set like he was trying to outrun something that wasn’t behind him.

“Hey.”

He didn’t stop. It was as though the words didn’t even seem to register.

“Wait.”

Still nothing.

My steps quickened without me deciding to.

“Rihaan.” Maybe it was the way I’d said his name. Like I was pleading for something. Or maybe it was the hint of desperation. Whatever it was, it made him pause.

Once I was close enough, my hand shot out of it’s own command, but I stopped myself before I could touch him. “What’s wrong?”

He let out a rough breath, before he replied. “Nothing.”

My brows pinched together as I took in his tone.

When silence hovered us for a beat longer, he finally looked at me. “Something I forgot?”

“Don’t do that.”

His shoulders rose with a slow inhale, like he was steadying something inside himself before he turned completely in my direction.

Unfortunately for me, there was nothing open in his face. Only restraint. The same expression he’d worn the first day during the squad meet.

My stomach dropped.

“Leave me alone, Maeve.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Not because of what they were—but because of how cleanly they were delivered. No hesitation. No edge of humour. Nothing to soften the impact. Just distance.

I stared at him, searching for something underneath it. “What happened between now and three days ago?”