Dinner seemed strangely calm.
Not warm. Not friendly. Just… calm.
Following all that transpired—the laps, the clash, the grueling practice, the overwhelming strain—quietness strangely seemed like a blessing. I consumed my food deliberately warily as though any abrupt action might break the calm as if it were fragile glass.
For a change he remained silent refraining from barking commands out of air. No harsh tone cutting sharply through the silence. Only the clink of my fork, and flow of my breath and the quiet.
Perhaps I was simply too exhausted to be afraid of him.. Perhaps weariness had blurred the sharpness of everything surrounding me.
After finishing my meal I returned to my room, my footsteps weighing more than my body. I collapsed onto the bed barely managing to draw the blanke
