Zara opened her mouth to say something that this was absurd, that it solved nothing, that pretending to be something wouldn’t make the something true and found, to her own quiet horror, that the protest didn’t fully arrive. Because the alternative was watching Noah issue a statement that distanced himself from her. Watching her own name get carried further into a narrative she had no way to fight. Watching whoever was sending those messages succeed at making her radioactive.
And there was a version of Amara’s idea she could feel it, underneath the panic that wasn’t even really pretending. Not entirely. Not after the lake. Not after the wall outside her building.
She looked at Noah.
He was looking at her already, and whatever was happening on his face was complicated caution, and somethi
