CIAN
She said nothing.
The silence stretched between us until it felt like something physical, like a rope pulled tight enough to hum. I waited. She kept her mouth closed. Her eyes stayed wet. She stood there like if she didn't move, if she didn't speak, the whole thing might pass over her.
Something shifted in my chest. It started as grief. It hardened fast. Turned into something with edges.
"Answer me."
She didn't.
Her lips pressed together. Her shoulders stayed squared in that careful way she did when she thought stillness made her smaller, less visible, less guilty.
"Madeline." My voice came out low at first, then it ripped free of my control and echoed off the walls. "Answer me."
She flinched. Actually flinched. The tears were still clinging to her lashes but her spine went straight, like she'd remembered who she was supposed to be. I watched something reorganize itself behind her eyes. Fear shifting into calculation.
