"I don't think I want to talk about it today," I say quietly.
We're now standing near the couch, the dishes is already done. Outside the window, the light has turned soft and pale, the way it does when the sky's too tired to rain but still too heavy for sunlight.
Noah tilts his head, eyes meeting mine without pressure. "Talk about what?"
"You know," I murmur. "About you. And Evergreen Palace. And … all of it you wanna tell me today."
He nods like he already knew what I meant. "Okay. Just let me know whenever you feel like it."
No hesitation. No disappointment. Just that steady warmth in his voice that makes the air around me feel less suffocating.
"I've been spiraling around it too much," I admit, looking at my own hands. "I just … I don't think I want to figure everything out right now."
"Then don't," he says, just as gently. "You have been handling it so well."
