Rui watched Shen's face, trying to read his expression behind the mask. She held her breath, waiting—for words or acknowledgment.
Shen's eyes—those piercing light blue eyes that had once made her heart flutter—studied her face with an intensity that made her skin warm.
His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath.
"Is it truly too late, then?" he finally asked, his voice barely audible.
Rui was taken aback by the question. She blinked rapidly, her mind struggling to process his words.
After all these years of stoic formality, was he now suggesting something different?
"What are you saying, Shen?" she asked cautiously, searching his face for some hint of his true feelings.
Shen noticed her hesitation, the slight furrow of her brow. Something in his expression shifted, closing off like a door being quietly shut.
"Forgive me," he said, straightening his posture.
He cleared his throat, adjusting the mask that covered the lower half of his face.
