Lately, I had started being in control.
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
So when Mark asked his question, I did not flinch.
But my heart did.
It was brief, just a single hitch—so subtle that even I barely noticed it. But I was still human, and for a fraction of a second, humanity bared its fangs at me.
I buried it instantly.
Mark watched me carefully from behind his desk. His hands were interlaced, his elbows resting lightly on the polished wood. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes? His eyes were sharp.
A hunter waiting for movement.
I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me, but I had carried heavier burdens before. I straightened my posture, exuding the same unshakable presence I always did. My mask—my real mask—never slipped.
Instead of reacting, I tilted my head ever so slightly, letting silence stretch between us. Then, with perfect composure, I asked:
"What do you mean?"
