***
{Outside The Projection}
Layla's breath hitched—just for a second.
Then, before she could even think to stop it, a few tears slipped free.
She wiped at them fast; her throat tight, her chest heavy.
Because God, he still cared.
Even after everything.
Even after all the Hell he'd been through.
His feelings—for her, for her father—they hadn't faded.
Not even a little.
If anything?
They'd only grown.
That realization hit her like a gut punch.
She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to compose herself, but her heart wouldn't stop pounding.
And she wasn't the only one feeling it.
Safira was going through her own crisis—but for a completely different reason.
Because Malik?
Malik was nervous.
And not just your usual, stiff-shouldered, wary-eyed kind of nervous.
No.
This was different.
She saw it clear as day.
His being at the inn, other than checking out what enamored Layla so much, was to delay their meeting.
A 'foreign emotion,' the projection called it.
