Secrets beneath the gaze

Paris. 22.00 hour.
The shop was quiet. Too quiet for the heart pounding beneath Mira's ribs. Outside, Paris breathed its usual restless rhythm, but inside, time seemed suspended between the cold metal shelves and flickering fluorescent lights.
Alex stood by the counter, his gaze sharp, unreadable, cold eyes that never quite met hers, yet somehow said everything. Between them hung a fragile silence, heavy with things unspoken. She tried to read him, to find the warmth she once thought lived behind those eyes, but all she found was a guarded wall, built of secrets neither dared to voice.
Mira adjusted the strap of her bag, forcing herself to look away from Alex's sharp gaze. The hum of the old refrigerator was the only sound filling the gap between them.

"You forgot to lock the storage room again," Alex said, his voice low, clipped, not angry, but distant, like he was reciting a fact rather than talking to her.

"I was in a rush," Mira replied softly, avoiding his eyes.
She hated how the silence stretched between them after every exchange, like they were both holding their breath, waiting for something neither dared to say.

Alex shifted, running a hand through his lengthy dark hair, eyes flickering to hers for just a second before looking away again. "You're careless," he muttered. "This isn't a game."
His words stung, not because they were harsh. Because underneath the coldness, Mira sensed a flicker of something else. Frustration? Regret? She wasn't sure. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of what was unsaid settling over them like a fog. Then Alex turned and walked away, leaving Mira alone with the echo of his voice. And as his footsteps faded, Mira was left wondering 'was this distance between them a shield'?