Chapter thirty-six
Arthur
Monday's alarm goes off at precisely six-thirty a.m.
I silence it, already reaching for my phone to check messages that accumulated overnight. The screen shows nothing urgent. No crises. No updates.
No Lindsay.
This is how I prefer it. Clean. Ordered. Under control.
Henry is awake before I am. I know because I can hear him moving around the kitchen—cupboards opening, cereal pouring, the television murmuring something loud and animated.
The house sounds wrong without her.
As soon as I get in the kitchen, Henry's talking—rapid-fire, breathless—about CAMICon.
About panels and costumes and something called limited-edition merch that apparently matters a great deal.
He talks like nothing has changed.
It grates. Not because of the topic, but because of the ease. The enthusiasm.
The absence of the careful restraint he usually wears around me. That kind of energy Lindsay pulled out of him.
I pour coffee and tell myself irritation is reasonable before seven a.m. It doesn’t help.
"And then there was this whole exhibit about character design, and Lindsay showed me how they—"
My hand tightens around the mug. "Henry."
He stops mid-sentence, eyes widening slightly.
"Sorry," he says automatically. "I know it's early."
But he doesn't stop talking. He redirects. Tells me conventions are about community, not just fandom.
I listen, jaw tight, wondering why every word feels like a small accusation.
"You're not even listening," Henry says finally, looking at me over his bowl.
"I am," I reply automatically.
He studies me for a moment, then goes back to his cereal.
This tension is temporary. Things will normalize.
But the words don't resonate anymore.
"Are you mad at Lindsay?" he asks.
The question is blunt. Unfiltered. Dangerous.
"I'm not discussing adult matters," I say, too quickly.
Henry frowns. Then, very quietly, he says, "If you love her, stop acting like you don't."
The words hit harder than anything said in anger. They're not dramatic. They're not weaponized. They're simply true in a way that bypasses every defense I've built.
