Because she’s there.
Across the room.
Curled slightly on her side, my jacket still wrapped around her, hair loose, face finally relaxed in a way I haven’t seen since Prague.
It hits me for a second.
Harder than it should.
I shut it down immediately.
Not the time.
Not the place.
Definitely not the situation.
Outside, the storm has passed.
The world is quiet again.
Too quiet.
I push to my feet carefully, testing my side.
Pain.
Sharp.
Manageable.
I’ve had worse.
Still not great.
Still slowing me down.
Also not something I’m telling her.
She’ll just—
“Stop pretending you’re fine.”
I glance over.
She hasn’t moved.
Eyes still closed.
“You always eavesdrop in your sleep?” I ask.
“They’re open now,” she replies, finally sitting up.
Yeah.
That tracks.
“You’re favoring your side,” she adds, already watching me like she’s running diagnostics.
