Octavia's Point of View
“You look like you have just wrestled three bears,” Clary says gently, setting the notebook aside on her night stand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I swallow hard, caught between relief and hesitation. Part of me wants to fold into her easy kindness, but the other part, my guarded, fractured self tightens its hold.
Still, her presence fills the room with something I did not realize I needed.
I manage a small smile, though it does not reach my eyes. “Maybe. Just… give me a second.”
She nods her head, no pressure, just waiting. And that patience feels like the first real breath I have taken all day.
Clary stretches, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “Okay, I am starving,” she says, standing from her bed and brushing imaginary dust from her leggings. Her eyes
