EMMA'S POV
The morning arrived fractured.
Emma woke to the sound of rain striking the windows with deliberate insistence, not violent but relentless, as though the sky had committed to saying something and refused to be interrupted. The city beyond the glass was blurred into layers of gray, its edges softened, its certainty temporarily erased.
She lay still, listening.
Damian was already awake. She could tell by the way his breathing was measured, alert beneath the pretense of rest. He hadn't moved, but his mind was already ahead of the day, arranging contingencies she would never fully see.
"Something's changed," Emma said quietly.
Damian didn't pretend otherwise. "Yes."
She rolled onto her side to face him. His eyes were open now, dark and steady. "You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?"
"I'm deciding how much," he replied.
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Fair."
