Zaire***
I hear her stir before she speaks. That soft, confused breath she takes when sleep has not let go yet.
"Zaire?"
"I'm here," I call back, keeping my voice level. Calm. Normal.
She shuffles into the kitchen, hair all over the place, eyes still heavy. It hits me again how fragile this all feels. How close I came to not seeing this.
"How long was I out?"
"Not long."
She studies me. Kyra always sees too much. "You didn't wake me."
"You needed the rest." True. Also true: I needed the quiet. Needed to sit with the noise in my head without her worrying.
She lets it go, but then she asks, "You okay?"
"I'm good." The lie slips out easy. Too easy. I catch myself. "Just thinking." Closer to the truth.
She steps in, rests her head on my shoulder for a second. I do not pull away,
