For a long moment, she just stared at me, as if she hadn’t heard the question—or maybe she was lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable.
Then, without a word, she turned her face and buried it in her hands.
The gesture was small.
And oddly… endearing.
I didn’t mean to chuckle, but it escaped me anyway. Briefly.
The sound must have shocked the other two in the room, because I saw them glance at each other like they’d heard something unholy. I didn’t laugh in public. I didn’t smile in public.
I cleared my throat and forced the humor back down.
She finally spoke, her voice quiet but laced with dry wit.
“You’re merciful,” she said. “I’m still alive.”
The words hung in the air between us.
Something about the way she said it—matter-of-fact but edg
