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𓃮Inayah's pov 𓃮
He goes quiet.
For a second, I think the room stops breathing with him.
I watch him closely as he twitches his jaw, the way his fingers press into the edge of the table like he’s holding himself back,like he’s deciding something.
But I don’t move, I don’t say anything else.
Let him sit in it.
He looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and there’s something cold in them. Like the softness he was faking just peeled off.
Finally.
“I don’t know what you think you saw,” he says, slowly, too calmly. “But those weren’t my records. You must be confused.”
I almost laugh.
Almost.
He's such a dummy.
I keep my face still. But inside, I’m clenching.
That’s the best he’s got? Confused?
I tilt my head slightly. “Right. Of course. I must’ve imagined the entire folder on your laptop. The one labeled Documents for Mother....Silly me.”
His expression shifts barely, but I catch it.
He didn’t think I saw that folder, He didn’t think I dug that deep.
I lean back in my chair. My fingers run along the edge of the plate in front of me.
“You know,” I say, softly, “the funny thing about liars is that they keep talking even when they should stop.”
He opens his mouth again, but I cut him off. “So before you spin another one, let me ask you something.”
He stiffens.
“Why would your medical records have my mother’s name listed under Emergency Contact? Why was her email linked? Why did the reports go to my father’s inbox two months before he started…” I pause. I don't finish the sentence.
