That truth hit like a knife. Her smile vanished. Her chest felt tightened, shame blooming under her ribs. She blinked rapidly, but the tears came anyway, uninvited, slipping down her cheeks one after another until one landed on his skin.
Oliver stirred, brow twitching before his eyes slowly fluttered open. For a second, confusion, then concern.
"Athena?" His voice was still heavy with sleep, low and rough, but it snapped her right out of her spiraling thoughts.
She panicked. Tried to wipe her eyes too fast, her movements clumsy. "I'm fine," she whispered but her voice broke mid-word.
Oliver sat up instantly. "Hey…" His hand found her face, his touch firm but careful. "Sweetheart, look at me."
She shook her head, pressing her palms over her eyes. "I'm fine, I just..."
He didn't let her hide. He gently took her hands, pulled them down, and brushed his thumb across her wet cheek. "You're crying," he said quietly. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"
