Kyle lay sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The soft evening light came in through the curtains, painting everything in shades of orange and gold.
Beside him, curled up in a small ball of black fur. Zalrielle—now called Mochi, purred quietly.
Her tail moved now and then, flicking lazily against the bed.
From the kitchen. He could hear the steady sound of chopping and the occasional loud clatter of metal.
Seraphina had taken over cooking, which was usually his job. Aurelia was helping, though calling it "helping" was generous.
Kyle wasn't sure if almost setting the kitchen on fire counted as real help. But he appreciated the thought.
Still. There was something between them. Not anger exactly, just a quiet tension.
Aurelia had already told Seraphina it wasn't her fault. No one could've guessed that the hospital. Even with such high security, would be attacked.
But guilt didn't listen to reason. It stuck around, even when you knew better.
