POV: Yessica | Location: Edinburgh
She didn't sleep Sunday night.
Not because of the itching — though it was worse, a persistent heat across both palms that no position relieved. Not because of Claire, who was active and present and jabbing at intervals. But because her body knew, the way bodies know things before numbers confirm them, that Monday would be different.
She lay in the dark and breathed and didn't check her phone.
At six she got up. Made tea. Stood at the window.
Victoria Street below, pre-dawn. The lamps still on. A delivery van navigating the cobblestones with practiced patience. The castle invisible in the low cloud.
She texted Lewis at six-fifteen.
Itching worse last night.
His reply came immediately. He was already awake.
I'll be there at eight.
Agnes didn't say
