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Theo’s brows lift, and I can practically hear the hum of analysis running behind the calm on his face.

Katherine pats the top of the basket twice, then seems to forget it exists, her attention darting to the window, the fire, then back to us.

The ornate coffee table in front of her—floral inlay and delicately curved legs—looks buried under the kind of clutter that says someone’s given up pretending to care.

There’s a stack of glossy architecture magazines from months back, some unopened mail in tidy little piles, and a few playing cards tossed around. It looks as if someone half-started a game and forgot about it.

“You play Asshole?” Katherine blurts, eyes snapping to me with laser focus that nearly makes me take a step back.

I do not have a response prepared for that. “Sorry?”

“The card game,” Emily says, sliding onto the settee beside her aunt like this is all perfectly normal. “That’s the one we usually play. It’s kind of obscure. Lila, you’d love it. It’s a lawless wasteland of a game.”

Katherine’s already nodding—fast, eager. “Yes! The card game. We used to play it for hours. I was good, you know. Ruthless.” She laughs, a quick burst that borders on manic. “We should play now.”

“I’d probably be terrible at it,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I’m more of a strategy girl.”

“Perfect,” Katherine says, grinning too wide. “That’s exactly how you lose.”

After a long beat, she murmurs, almost to herself, “Thomas is never this late.”

Emily leans across the end table and lays a hand over hers. “Do you want us to wait? We don’t have to start without him.”

Katherine blinks at her, shakes her head too fast, then changes gears. “No—no, that’s fine. I don’t know if I feel up for cards anyway. I didn’t sleep.”

Emily squeezes her hand gently. “Then we’ll just sit. No games. Just visit.”

My eyes catch on a small white bottle tipped on its side near the coaster. Curious, I pick it up, turning it over in my hand.

NeuraLife Focus+. All-natural cognitive support. High-dose ginseng. Guarana. A laundry list of unregulated nonsense that probably doubles as rocket fuel.

I give it a shake. There are like two capsules left inside. “How many of these did you take?” I ask, eying Katherine while handing the bottle to Theo.

Her eyes track the bottle, her face lighting up. “Oh, those! I borrowed them from Nora. She swears they help her stay centered during yoga. I was so exhausted earlier and wanted to seem more put together before you arrived. I felt like we made such a bad first impression during dinner the other night. I think I took one or two extra.” She laughs. “Maybe three.”

Theo scans the label, frowning. “These contain ephedra,” he says, glancing nervously at me, “and about four different caffeine analogs.”

Katherine waves a dismissive hand. “Well, that explains why I can hear colors.”

None of us laugh. Emily stares at her, slack-jawed.

I meet Theo’s eyes. He caps the bottle without a word, then crosses to the built-in bookshelf that spans the wall and slides it onto the top shelf—out of sight, and definitely out of Katherine’s reach.

Emily reaches for the basket, somewhat in a daze, and peels back the cellophane, rifling through tissue paper until she finds the tin of tea.

“Maybe this will help you calm down,” she says, a bit too carefully.

Katherine gasps, eyes going wide. “Tea! Yes! Oh, I love tea. I used to drink sooo much of it. Victoria used to—” Her voice catches mid-sentence, breaking into a sharp inhale. “Oh, Victoria.”

The shift is instant. One second, she’s glowing; the next, she’s crumbling, tears spilling as fast as the words stop.

Theo stands, taking the tin from Emily. “I’ll, uh—boil some water,” he says. “Do you have a mug preference?”

“Oh—yes. Of course. Kitchen’s down the hall.” Katherine sniffles once, swiping at her face with the heel of her hand as if tears were a minor inconvenience. “Top cabinet to the left of the sink!” she calls, suddenly bright again. “Oh, and the kettle’s blue—well, more of an indigo, depending on the light. You can’t miss it!”

She’s already smiling again, eyes a little too wide, like nothing just happened at all.

Theo pauses mid-step, glancing at me over his shoulder. His expression says exactly what I’m thinking.