FAYE
I paused outside the door longer than I meant to.
It wasn’t hesitation exactly—more like a quiet recalibration. I had walked into battlefields with less awareness of the weight pressing on my chest than I felt standing there, hand hovering inches from the handle.
I knocked once and pushed the door open.
He looked up immediately.
The movement was instinctive, sharp enough that it startled me for a second. One moment he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slightly hunched, gaze unfocused. The next, he was standing.
Too fast.
“I—sorry,” he said quickly, as though only just realizing he’d done it. His balance faltered, subtle but there, and he stilled himself with a hand against the mattress.
I lifted my palm gently. “It’s okay. You don’t need to stand.”
He hesitated,
