The morning sunlight slipped through the tall curtains of Tina's mansion, scattering gold across the living room. Despite the brightness, Tina perched on the edge of the couch, knees drawn up, hugging a cushion like it was a lifeline. Her blazer was tossed on the armrest, sleeves bunched at the cuffs, and her hair had escaped its usual careful pinning. Even in her casual state, she looked impossibly delicate—her childlike energy muted beneath the weight of thoughts she hadn't quite processed. Andrew leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, observing quietly. He sipped his tea, eyebrows slightly raised, noting the way her fingers traced imaginary patterns along the cushion.
"You've been sitting there like a statue for ten minutes. You planning to meditate, or are you secretly plotting world domination?"
