Stan grins at Nil. “Look at you, babe, being all wise and monk-like. When did that happen?”
Nil’s eyebrow arches as he frowns. “Not even close to being a monk.”
“Oh,I know,” Stan says suggestively.
My cheeks warm at the implication. He must be speaking of the development of their dynamic. That, I catch on to.
Stan and Nil keep talking. Their exchanges sound light, almost effortless. Stan nudges Nil with his elbow and says something about his body being a temple, and Nil gives him a look that contains more expression than most people manage with full sentences.
I observe the interaction as I would any fascinating, familiar behavioral pattern. Stan teases in exaggeration. Nil retorts dryly. Stan’s tone dips lower. Nil’s eyes narrow once more.
Their voices fill the MedBay, fill my mind. It takes me a while to realize my breathing has eased.
Their exchange isn’t directed at me, but the pressure around my neck lessens. My thoughts stop circling the same question.
At some point, we’re moving. Stan says something about the mess hall. Nil notes that I didn’t “grab a bite” earlier. No one waits for myresponse as they walk, placing me in between them.
The conversation continues around me as if this was decided without needing my input. But my shoulders lower without conscious effort. My thoughts stop spiraling long enough for the sounds around me tofeel normal again.
Hours later, I’ve eaten my meals and taken sea-facing walks with Nil and Stan, and by evening, the decision tree has been done. I’ve even informed Set who sounded pleased. He didn’t ask for revisions. Rather, he said he’d be on call speaking with his sons.
It’s why I suspect Idris is late to bed. Or maybe I shouldn’t expect him at all tonight.
Something scratches at the inside of my throat. I try swallowing. It doesn’t ease.
Idris has been sharing my bed since we boarded this ship. Rerouting that routine makes my palm itch when reasonably, there’s nothing irritating that patch of skin.
Forcing out an exhale, I take my glasses off and place them on the nightstand. Then I lie down and tell myself I should be tired enough to fall asleep without him.
I’ve done it before. I can do it again.
But then the door opens. It must be Idris this time. I don’t reach for my glasses, but I sit up and see him as he steps into the dim light of my quarters.
His brows are creased at the center. His frown rather prominent. He looks exhausted. After all, he was running around all day, handling the heavy burden his father placed on him.
“You’re awake,” he whispers, sounding surprised.
“I was about to sleep,” I reply.
His frown lifts into a soft smile. “I’m so sorry I kept you waiting, Em.”
“You had responsibilities to attend, Idris,” I say.
He sits beside me on the bed. He studies my face as he usually does, holding my attention. His hand lifts, stopping at the curve of my cheek, as though he’s checking if he’s allowed.
At my nod, he touches me. His palm is warm. It eases my chest, as if I could finally take a full breath at the end of the day.
“I know I’ve been busy, but…” he starts, voice lower. “You’ve been on my mind every second. Every millisecond, even, Em.”
It feels like a strange thing for him to admit, considering his claim’s statistically impossible.
“I managed,” I reassure him. “Nil and Stan stayed by my side. They helped.”
His hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck, fingers threading into the ends of my hair. The motion is quite calming to my nerves that I nearly close my eyes.
“I’m glad they were there,” he murmurs with an approving smile.
When silence returns, I feel a question rise in my mind. I want to voice it and ask,Why didn’t you tell me sooner about Sergio?
