Neither of us speaks at first.
We don’t need to.
The quiet isn’t awkward.
It’s real.
“You hungry?” I ask finally.
The normalcy surprises me.
“Yeah,” he says. “A little.”
“I’ve got sandwiches. Or soup.”
“Sandwich is fine.”
Simple.
Easy.
And somehow… that feels bigger than everything else today.
A few minutes later, we’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch.
Plates in hand.
TV on low.
Neither of us really watching.
Just… here.
Together.
I take a bite, then glance at him.
“You really think I can win this?” I ask.
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Yeah.”
“Even with him?”
“Especially with him.”
I study him.
“You don’t sound worried.”
“I am,” he admits. “Just not about the outcome.”
That catches me.
“What are you worried about?”
His eyes hold mine.
