Chapter 34 : Judgment Day in Sweatpants
The door creaked open.
Dirga stepped out, freshly changed into his signature grey sweatpants and a loose black shirt — the closest thing to armor he had for what was waiting beyond.
The moment Jane saw him, she didn’t speak. She commanded.
"Come here," she said, her voice like the opening bell of a final boss fight — calm, deadly, inevitable.
She stood at the center of the living room like a character summoned from a Mortal Kombat arena, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed, judgment in every breath.
But Dirga didn’t meet her fire with defiance.
Instead, he walked past the couch, lowered himself slowly to the floor, and sat cross-legged like a monk awaiting punishment. He even raised his hands into the air in surrender — or maybe offering.
It was pathetic.
It was smart.
Jane stalked forward, each step clicking on the marble floor like the tick of a detonator.
"So what the hell have you been doing for the past two months, huh?" Her tone cracked like a whip. "No calls. No texts. Nothing."