Stephanie's POV
The morning light was gray and cold coming through the cabin window. I was wrapped in one of Mabel's knitted blankets, sitting in a worn armchair, just watching. Outside, Cane was talking to Henry by the woodpile.
He stood with his back to me. His shoulders were set in that straight, stiff line I knew too well. The "I am fine" line. Henry was talking, gesturing with a piece of firewood. Cane nodded. He even reached out and clapped Henry on the shoulder once. A normal gesture. A strong gesture.
But I saw it. The way his hand lingered for a second too long, like he was holding onto Henry to keep himself upright. The way his head was bent just a little, not in listening, but in sheer, heavy tiredness. He was holding the whole world on those shoulders, and he was trying to make it look light.
My tea had gone cold in the mug between my hands.
