CLAIRE
Lila was tense the next morning in a way that went beyond nerves. It was the kind of strain that lived under the skin, subtle but persistent, as if her body were bracing for something it did not fully trust.
She stood at the stove making coffee, but her movements were too deliberate, as though she were compensating for something internal. Her breathing was shallow, and the mug trembled slightly before she steadied it against the counter.
"You didn't sleep," I said.
She paused for a fraction of a second before answering. "Neither did you."
The accuracy of the comment made me look at her more closely. She had not glanced at my face, but she knew. Her awareness tracked me too easily, and now that I was paying attention, I noticed how quickly her gaze adjusted when I sh
