NICK
My hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter until the marble felt like it might crack.
I kept my eyes fixed on the black tile of the wall in front of me.
I did not want to look at the doorway. I did not want to hear if Cyan was eating or if he had pushed the plate away in that quiet, stubborn way he had.
The dining room was silent.
That silence was heavy. It was a physical thing that pressed against my back, trying to force me to turn around.
I started to organize my thoughts. My mind moved fast. It was a machine. I needed it to be a machine right now.
This is just exhaustion, I told myself. I had performed two major surgeries yesterday. I had been called in for a midnight operation that lasted six hours. Sleep deprivation does strange things to the brain. It affects your ability to process reality. This was clinical. This was explainable.
I refused to name the other thing. I would not let it into the room.
