It's not good. Dishes pile in the small basin. The blankets from my bed trail across the floor where I've been dragging them to the chair. Everything looks exactly like someone's been hiding from the world.
"When's the last time you ate?" Saela asks bluntly, already unpacking Shae's basket.
"Yesterday. Maybe." I can't actually remember. Time's been strange, hours blurring together into one long stretch of anxiety.
Shae guides me toward the chair with gentle hands, settling me down before I can protest. "We'll fix that. And then we're going to talk about what's going on."
"Nothing's—"
"Don't." Saela's tone brooks no argument. "Two days ago you were happy. Laughing. You and Falla were attached at the hip during the feast and you looked more alive than I've seen you since..." She trails off, but we both know how that sentence ends.
Since before Nia died. Since before everything went to hell.
Shae sets a steaming cup in my hands—the same tea Falla always makes me drink. The irony tastes bitter. "We thought you two were doing so well together."
The words crack something in my chest. "We were."
"Then what happened?" Saela pulls another chair closer, sitting so we're eye level. "Because you're back to hiding in here like those first weeks and Falla looks like someone carved his heart out."
Guilt joins the anxiety churning in my stomach. "You've seen him?"
"Shae went to his shop." Saela looks at the orc.
Shae nods. "That's what's strange. He hasn't left the healing house at all, which is unlike him." She gives me a knowing look. "And he wouldn't even talk about you when I ask."
So he really is done. Really took my dismissal at face value and decided to respect my boundaries exactly like I asked.
Why does that make everything worse?
"Tell us what happened," Shae says softly. "Whatever it is, we can help."
I wrap both hands around the warm cup, using its heat to anchor myself. "I panicked."
"About what?"
"About—" The words stick in my throat. I force them out anyway. "About waking up next to anorc."
Silence follows my admission. Not judgment—Saela's seen enough of my trauma to understand where this comes from and Shae has been nothing but empathetic. But the quiet still feels heavy with unspoken questions.
"You slept with him," Saela says carefully. Not a question.
I nod, heat crawling up my neck despite everything. "The night of the feast. I invited him in. I wanted to. Iwantedhim." The emphasis comes out desperate. "It was good. He was perfect. So careful and patient and?—"
"But you woke up afraid," Shae finishes gently.
"Not at first." I take a shaky breath. "At first I just felt... safe. Content. And then I realized what that meant. That I'd let him that close. That I'd been completely vulnerable with someone who could?—"
"Could what?" Saela's voice sharpens. "Hurt you? Ressa, Falla would never?—"
"Iknowthat." The words come out too loud, too raw. "I know he wouldn't. I know this clan isn't like the Stonevein. I know he's been nothing but kind and patient and gentle with me. I know all of thatlogically."
"But the fear doesn't care about logic," Shae says with understanding that makes my eyes burn.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"So you pushed him away." Saela's tone carries no accusation, just sad comprehension.
"I thanked him for being a good partner and made it clear I wanted space." The memory of his face—carefully neutral except for that flash of hurt in his blue-green eyes—makes my chest constrict. "He didn't argue. Just... left."
