By the time the door clicks shut behind us, the exhaustion in my bones feels heavier than anything I carried all day. The guest room looks the same as before, perfectly arranged and untouched, but now the air feels different. Thicker somehow. Weighted with everything I have not said.
I sit on the edge of the bed because standing takes too much energy. Damian does not take the chair or the space near the wall. Instead, he lowers himself to the floor beside me, crossing one knee and resting his arm along the other. It puts us at the same height. His eyes lift to mine, quiet and steady.
He is trying not to tower over me. He is trying not to intimidate me. Something about that unravels me a little, the way small kindness can undo a person faster than cruelty ever could.
“Elena,” he says sof
