Malem’s POV
The night after the cameras were discovered, I couldn’t sleep. Yannick had insisted I stay at his place, but his presence — once soft and grounding — now felt like a constant reminder that he was angry at me, too. He barely spoke except to bark instructions: lock the windows, keep the curtains drawn, don’t answer unknown numbers. He kissed me on the forehead before leaving for work, but it was a perfunctory gesture, not the tender Yannick I knew.
Malem,” she answered her voice warm and immediate. There was a sliver of worry threaded through it. “What’s going on? You sound like you’ve been holding your breath all week.”
I curled up cross-legged on Yannick’s couch, the folded blanket he’d left for me across the arm like a small island of comfort. My hands wouldn’t stop trembl
