FREYA
Martha was moving around the room like she always did, fussing over details that didn’t need fussing. She adjusted the curtains, refolded towels, wiped the spotless table, and pretended not to look at me every few seconds.
“You know,” I said finally, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to keep acting like I’m made of glass.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
I smiled, leaning against the edge of the table. “Since the announcement. You’ve been… different. Careful.”
Her cheeks colored faintly. “You’re Luna now, Freya. Things are bound to change.”
“Not between us,” I said quickly. “You were the first person who actually talked to me when I got here. The first who didn’t look at me like I didn’t belong.”
Martha’s expression softened, but she shook her head. “That was different, y
