Chapter 34: The Question of Timing
The afternoon sun bled through the tall windows of Yvette's room, warm and golden, but no one in the space seemed to notice. The light painted the edges of the furniture, spilling across the neat bedspread and the bookshelf lined with hardcovers her parents had sent her.
Arthur sat at Yvette's reading desk, hunched forward slightly, spinning a silver pen between his fingers with a concentration that looked almost unnatural. The repeated click of the cap breaking rhythm with the occasional scrape of the chair as he shifted in thought.
Eilidh was curled in the chair beside the desk, one leg draped over the armrest, her head tilted back, her hair was no longer in a braid and it now slid over the wood like a lazy waterfall. She looked at Arthur the way someone watched a storm gather in the distance knowing the lightning would come, just waiting for the strike.
