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The way her breath slows.
Controlled.
Thinking.
“You want me to rest,” she says.
“Yes.”
“In your room.”
Not a question.
Not really.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“That’s not standard.”
“I don’t care.”
That almost gets a reaction.
Almost.
Her eyes search mine.
Looking for the reason.
The angle.
The flaw.
There isn’t one.
“I need to stay close,” I say quietly.
That’s the truth.
Simple.
Uncomplicated.
“And you need to sleep.”
Another pause.
Then—
“Okay.”
That word again.
But softer this time.
Less guarded.
