Rafael's POV
Something was wrong with Maliya.
I'd known for days, but tonight it was impossible to ignore. We'd had dinner together, a nice quiet meal where she'd smiled and talked and seemed fine on the surface. But I knew her well enough now to see past the mask.
She was hiding something. Something big.
I lay in bed beside her, listening to her breathing. She wasn't asleep—I could tell by the rhythm, too measured, too controlled. She was pretending, just like she'd been pretending all week.
"Maliya," I said quietly. "I know you're awake."
She went still for a moment, then shifted to face me. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep."
"What's bothering you?"
"Nothing. Just... thinking about everything."
"You've been 'just thinking' for a week now." I propped myself up on one elbow, looking down
