Still—
Something shifts in my chest.
Not pain.
Something else.
Something I don’t like.
Something I don’t have a name for.
I exhale again.
Slower this time.
Because I know what this is.
I’ve seen it before.
Not in me.
But in others.
That look.
That tone.
That—
Care.
I let out a quiet huff.
“Not happening,” I mutter.
Because it’s not.
Because it can’t.
Because I don’t have time for—
Anything like that.
Not with the way we live.
Not with what we do.
And she—
She doesn’t belong in that world.
Not like that.
Not—
My jaw tightens.
Because that’s not entirely true either.
