Daytime Tension
The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows, painting long streaks across the safehouse's polished floors. Isabelle had spent the first hours curled under a blanket on the couch, her mind replaying the storm from the night before.
She could still feel the faint tremor in her legs from when she fainted. The fear, the panic it had been real.
Sebastian moved silently around the kitchen, preparing coffee with methodical precision. His movements were calm, almost serene, but Isabelle felt the undercurrent of tension radiating from him like a second heartbeat.
She studied him from across the room. "You're quiet this morning," she said.
He glanced over his shoulder, offering her a small, tired smile. "I'm enjoying the calm."
She didn't believe him. The slight crease between his brows betrayed him. And when he lifted the cup to his lips, his hand trembled almost imperceptibly.
"You're hiding something," she said softly.
