What comes out instead is calm enough to be mistaken for harmless.
“Sure,” I say.
The room keeps moving around me after that. Steph offers coffee. Cheyenne wanders toward the snacks like she already lives here. Maria chatters about movies. Kadin stays just close enough to Octavia to make his intention obvious without crossing into anything Jacob could object to.
Somehow, I stand in the middle of it all with rage banked low, a smirk still threatening at the edge of my mouth from Jacob’s muttered dismissal of Kadin, and the terrible certainty that this day is going to demand far more self-control from me than I actually have left.
Octavia moves everyone out of the kitchen before the room can tighten any further.
It isn’t dramatic. She doesn’t clap her hands or announce it like a hostess. She just starts gathering momentum around herself the way she does when she wants control of a situation without asking for it. Maria and Cheyenne fall in beside her easily, already talking over each other about snacks and what movie to start with as Kadin follows with that same easy willingness that makes me want to dislike him more than I already do.
Steph, of course, looks pleased.
There is something almost offensive about how natural all of this appears from the outside. A few college kids. A surprise visit. A movie marathon. Jacob standing with one hand braced on the counter like he’s weighing whether to object while debating ifthis is still within the acceptable range of harmless young-adult fun.
“It won’t run late,” Octavia says over her shoulder as she starts steering them toward the stairs.
Her voice is light enough to pass. Not overly bright. Not strained. Just believable. If I didn’t know what she sounds like when she’s forcing a version of herself into place, I might have bought it completely.
Steph smiles, telling them to keep the volume reasonable. Jacob mutters something about not feeding Kadin too much confidence. Maria laughs. Cheyenne says something shameless back. The whole thing moves in one loose, noisy cluster toward the staircase.
Octavia lingers for half a second at the bottom step, one hand on the banister, phone in the other. It looks like nothing at first. Just another reflexive glance down at the screen before she goes upstairs.
Then her face changes.
It happens fast. So fast I could almost convince myself I imagined it if I didn’t know her expressions the way I do now. Her eyes sharpen first, then widen just a fraction. Not enough for anyone else to catch. Her mouth tightens. Color drains from her face so briefly it reads less like fear and more like the body being struck by a memory too sudden to prepare for.
A sick look passes over her.
Gone almost immediately.
By the time Maria says her name again, she has already smoothed it away, already tucked whatever she saw back behind that practiced, composed expression she wears when she doesn’t want the room asking questions. She slips the phone face-down against her thigh and keeps moving.
But I saw it.
And now I care a hell of a lot more than I did thirty seconds ago.
The shift is instant. Everything else in the room recedes. Kadin at the stairs. Jacob’s low commentary. Steph collecting mugs. None of it matters as much as the fact that Octavia just looked at something on her phone and, for one second, looked sick.
Not annoyed.
Not flustered.
Sick.
She starts up the stairs without looking back.
My body moves before I’ve decided to let it.
Not toward her, not yet. That would be too obvious. Too much, especially with Kadin still hovering in the orbit of her shoulder like concern itself decided to wear his face. Instead I stay where I am and watch, every instinct in me suddenly awake.
Because whatever she saw just changed the shape of the day.
And if Kadin notices, I don’t catch it.
He’s too busy saying something low to her as they climb, close enough to be heard only by her and maybe Maria. Octavia gives him nothing visible in return. No smile. No answer I can make out. She just keeps going, phone still clutched too tightly in her hand.
That tells me enough.
