My chest feels tight. “She didn’t eat,” I say. Too defensive. “She might later.”
No one makes a joke. No one teases me about it. Vaelor just nods once, something soft in his expression, and goes back to the dishes.
I sit back down.
Maybe she won’t even find it. Maybe she’ll think it’s weird. Some stranger making her a plate, putting her name on it like she’s a kid at daycare. Maybe I should take it back out and pretend I never—
No. It’s fine. It’s just food. People need food.
My own plate is cold now. I eat it anyway.
We’re halfway through cleanup when the alert comes through. All five of our phones buzz at once—that synchronized chime that means the system wants something.
Kyron checks his first. His expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture tightens.
“Orientation,” he says. “Tomorrow. 0900.”
“All of us?” Rane asks.
“Cluster members required. Attendance mandatory.”
“So yes.”
Locke makes a sound. Low, irritated. “They’re not wasting any time.”
“They never do.” Kyron sets his phone down. “They want to see how she fits. How we react to her. Whether we’re stable.”
“Are we?” Vaelor asks. It’s not quite a joke.
No one answers.
I think about tomorrow. Nova in some bland room being walked through rules she didn’t ask for. Us standing there pretending we’re not cataloging her every breath.
We’re not going to pass whatever test they’re setting up.
I don’t say that out loud.
The kitchen gets cleaned. Rane makes a bad joke about getting beauty sleep. Vaelor checks the fridge—checking on the plate, I realize, making sure it’s still there. Kyron disappears to his room with his phone. Locke doesn’t say goodnight; he never does.
I’m the last one in the kitchen.
The house is quiet now. Upstairs, behind the third door on the left, she’s probably not sleeping. I’m not going to sleep either.
She stepped toward me.
I keep turning it over, trying to understand. I didn’t reach for her. I didn’t say anything soft or reassuring. I just sat there, existing.
And she moved toward me anyway.
I’ve watched people my whole life. I know what tension looks like, what fear looks like, what someone planning to run looks like. I know how to read a room before anyone says a word.
But I don’t know how to read this. I don’t know what it means when someone’s shoulders drop just because they’re looking at you.
I don’t know how to be careful with something like that.
I turn off the kitchen light and go to bed.
Chapter 8
