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He notices.
Of course he does.
“You sleep?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
A beat.
He steps further into the room.
Slow.
Careful.
Like he’s approaching something that might shift if he moves too fast.
“What’s going on?” he asks quietly.
There it is.
Direct.
Clear.
Logan doesn’t circle things.
I look at him.
Really look at him.
At the man who stayed.
Who listened.
Who made space for me without asking for anything in return.
And that’s exactly the problem.
“Nothing,” I say.
It’s not a lie.
Not completely.
But it’s not the truth either.
His jaw tightens slightly.
“I don’t believe that.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
