(Ethan's POV)
The folded paper burned in my pocket, but I didn't touch it again yet. Not until I had my eyes and my mind wide open, not until I had measured every angle of the room, every shadow, every echo of her absence.
Victor had left me in silence. He'd said he couldn't interpret Mira's thinking from afar. And he was right—he couldn't. Not fully.
I had watched her for years. Not just because she was close, but because she was brilliant in ways that didn't announce themselves. She knew how to disappear in plain sight, how to leave a trail only one person could follow.
I started slow. Floor to ceiling. Furniture. Surfaces. Every object in the room whispered something.
The bed. Pristine. Not slept in. Untouched. Not accidental.
The closet. Hangers aligned perfectly, her clothes color-coded without thinking. Not for aesthetics. For mental mapping. A habit to make her world feel orderly when her mind raced.
