The room doesn’t feel like a room anymore.
It feels like overlapping spaces trying to decide which one is real.
Rylan is still holding me, but his grip is no longer just protective.
It’s grounding.
Like he thinks physical contact can hold reality in place.
It can’t.
Aria is staring at me like she’s watching a system she never expected to actually activate.
“That shouldn’t be possible yet,” she whispers.
Mara snaps her head toward her.
“You’ve said that three times tonight.”
Aria doesn’t look away from me.
“And I’ll say it again if it keeps changing faster than it should.”
Kell, half-awake in the chair, mutters:
“I vote we stop using the word ‘should’ entirely. It’s clearly not helping.”
No one laughs.
Because something inside me shifts again.
Not violently.
Not painfully.
