Nobody was yelling.
Nobody was forcing anything.
They were just… waiting.
Waiting for me to stabilize.
That messed with my head more than chaos ever did.
By the fourth day, my hands were steady enough to hold a pencil.
I had my sketchbook open on my lap and my robe tied tight around me. My hair was clean and wet, and my legs were finally strong enough to sit upright without feeling like I was gonna collapse.
I started sketching the room.
The curve of the chair.
The tall windows.
The plainclothes security walking outside.
Drawing had always slowed my brain down. It forced you to pay attention to detail. Shapes. Angles. The way shadows moved.
And I liked studying things.
Objects.
People who I thought were preying on me.
Suddenly, I heard someone punching in the code to my door.
It wasn’t my nurse; it was a different energy that I didn’t know I needed.
The door opened, and Genevieve stepped inside.
Elegant coat. Silk scarf. Jewelry that probably cost more than anything I’ve ever owned. I knew Genevieve from the meeting and as Ares’ mother. But I never been in the same room with her before then.
But what stood out wasn’t the money.
It was the way she carried herself.
Not stiff.
Not nervous.
Just… composed.
Her green hazel eyes landed on me and stayed there.
No pity.
No judgment.
Just observation.
“Bonjour, Yuna,” she said.
“Bonjour,” I replied, matching her tone.
