The first morning after that night felt strange.
Not bad. Not good. Just... different. Like after a heavy rain but before the sun comes out—the air is still damp, the ground still feels heavy, but at least the rain has stopped.
I came downstairs at 6:50.
Earlier than usual.
Damian was already at the dining table.
That alone was strange, because he was usually gone before I even woke up. But this morning, he was sitting there with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper he wasn't actually reading—his eyes were on the page, but they never moved.
I pulled out a chair.
Sat down.
Mrs. Sari came out of the kitchen, set a cup of tea in front of me without being asked, then quietly disappeared again. That woman had a good instinct for knowing when she should be there—and when she shoul
