– The Fi

ys. The chaos of the previous night still haunted her thoughts - the note, the shadow, the sense that someone was watchi

of coffee and a faint frown creasing his forehead. His messy hair somehow made him lo

d without looking

tension from last night. "I slept. Enoug

her, his dark eyes softening briefly. "Always ready

d an eyebrow

is lips. "Sometimes, the best revisions come wh

he protagonist's emotional arc. Debbie found herself caught up not just in Greg's words, but in the subtle n

lse quicken, a familiar warmth creeping into her chest. She caught herself analyzing his expressions - the faint furrow of his brow when he

he read aloud, her voice trembling slightly. "He's... afraid. Afraid o

imperceptibly, and said softly, "Sometimes, the

onal - as if he were speaking to her rather than his fictional character. She look

voice catching. "Let the character feel, not just react.

something more in his eyes - a flicker of vulnerabilit

th hitched. "

rare for someone to see beyond the chaos. Most people

it off, to maintain professionalism, but

faint aroma of coffee and ink. They argued less, worked more, but the underlying

his hand brushing against her as he handed her the book. The contact was fleeting, yet it sent a s

rying to mask the sudden warm

ement dancing in his voice

se - something she didn't yet want to name. She returned to he

e the mansion, under the soft glow of lanterns he had set up on the veranda. Debbie hesitated - the n

t across from each other at a small wooden table, manuscripts and notes spread between

. "He doesn't trust easily... but when he does, he gives everything.

t she reminded herself of the boundaries. She was a professional. She was here to edit

brushed accidentally. Debbie's breath caught. She looked up, and he held her ga

ked with," he said quietly. "You see me -

ned the page, trying to regain composure

a weight behind his words. "But maybe som

self were cracking under the weight of his gaze, his words, the heat that seeme

ught their attention. Both froze. Debbie's pulse spike

at?" she whisper

e wind," he said, though his hand subtly moved closer to hers under th

riefly in the lantern light. Greg stood abruptly, moving toward the

st to see clearly. Debbie's heart leapt into her throat. The figu

" he muttered. "Someone's been watchi

think it's... the note? Someo

his features. "Or maybe someone who want

- all of it was suddenly layered with real danger. Debbie felt herself drawn closer to him, not just

. It was brief, but it sent a jolt through her. She looked up at him, eyes wide. His expres

onight, tomorrow... someone is watching us. And

t acknowledgment. Her body betrayed her, longing f

ound them alive with shadows, the lanterns flickering,

me a soft, deliberate sound - a click, almost me

notes, watching the mansion, or lurking in the shadows had j

is jaw hardening. "Stay behind me," he whispe

est. The night had changed. The stakes had shifted. And one thing was certain: the manuscript, their sl

ing something that glinted in the darkness. Debbie gasped, and Greg's eyes n

ance, and introduce a critical professional con