(Ethan's POV)
I notice it in the quiet.
Not the absence of sound—the absence of hesitation.
Mira moves through the house like she already knows where everything is, even the things that haven't happened yet. No pauses. No second-guessing. She doesn't ask before opening doors. Doesn't glance back to see if I'm watching.
She used to. That's the first tell.
She's sitting by the window when I come in, legs tucked beneath her, hands wrapped around a mug she hasn't touched. The city outside is soft with late light, all gold and shadow. Anyone else would call it peaceful.
She doesn't look peaceful. She looks… calibrated.
"You didn't rest," I say.
She turns her head slightly. Just enough to acknowledge me. "I did."
It's true. And not. Her eyes are clear. Too clear. The kind of clarity that comes after decisions, not sleep.
I step closer. "You went out."
Not a question.
She nods once. "Briefly."
I wait... She doesn't fill the silence. That's the second tell.
