They moved through the morning together without discussing how to do it, falling into the rhythm of it the way people fall into rhythms that are built into them somewhere deeper than memory. Max took Ethan. Ruby took Nathan.
They worked around each other in the bathroom, in the closet, in the corridor, with the easy spatial awareness of two people who have shared a house and a morning routine long enough that the choreography is in the body.
Neither of them commented on it. Nathan was quiet.
Not the stormy, objecting quiet of yesterday, the quiet of a small person who has made their brave decision and is holding it tightly, not talking much because talking might loosen the grip on it. He dressed when asked.
He ate a few bites of what was brought for him. He let the nurses run their final pre-surgery checks with his chin up and his jaw set in a way that made something ache quietly in Max's chest every time he looked at it.
Ethan was quieter still.
