Her eyes flick to the doorway. To the hall beyond.
“Does that include deciding who comes into my room?”
There it is.
“While you’re recovering,” I reply. “Yes.”
She holds my gaze, unblinking. I don’t look away.
Eventually, she exhales. “You’re very good at making control sound like kindness.”
The words land closer to the bone than I’d like.
“I am kind,” I say quietly. “When it matters.”
She considers that, then nods once. “I believe you.”
I don’t know why that feels like permission – and I don’t like that it does.
I leave her to rest, closing the door with deliberate care.
In the hallway, the twins are waiting.
Not together. Not facing me. But close enough that their combined presence presses against my senses.
Kai leans against the wall, arms folded, posture loose in a way that fools no one. Koa stands near the bannister, gaze steady, unreadable.
“You’ve both been busy,” I say.
Kai grins. “You’re welcome.”
“This isn’t a joke,” I reply flatly.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Koa says. “But she’s awake, Sol. Properly.”
“I’m aware.”
“And she’s observant,” Kai adds. “In case that wasn’t already obvious.”
My eyes flick to him. “You didn’t antagonise her.”
“Depends what you mean by antagonise.”
Koa sighs. “She noticed our scents.”
That lands hard.
“Both of you?” I ask.
“Yes,” Koa says. “The differences.”
I close my eyes for half a second.
This is moving too fast.
“You should have told me sooner.”
“We told you as soon as we saw you. It just happened,” Koa replies evenly.