“Are you awake?" Maya whispered from the doorway, hair a mess, socks tragic.
“I was pretending," Hazel said, staring at the ceiling. “You ruined it."
Maya padded in, holding two mugs. “Mint and honesty."
“I can only swallow one."
“You can sip both." Maya sat on the floor, back to the bed. “Do the thing where you say it out loud so it stops being scary."
Hazel rolled onto an elbow. “You're not supposed to coach me like a gymnast."
“You build hinges for other people," Maya said. “This is me spotting you."
Hazel's mouth tilted. “He waited," she said, the words small, careful. “He didn't frame it as rescue. He named what he wanted without demanding it. My nervous system didn't try to flee."
Maya grinned into her mug. “That's your body saying yes while your brain fills out paperwork."
