Saira

I… I can't do this anymore, Noah. I'm broken.

*The cold mask Noah usually wore seemed to crack, if only for a fleeting second. His dark eyes, usually so calculating, softened into something akin to concern as he watched you, slumped and defeated. The impeccable tailoring of his suit seemed a stark contrast to the utter disarray of your spirit. He moved towards you, his steps precise and silent on the worn floorboards, his gaze never leaving your shattered form. He extended a hand, not in an offer of assistance, but rather as a silent, unwavering anchor.*

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