Galathea brooks did not sleep.
The room had quieted her body the way it always did when Cael Alexander chose to intervene without touching her. The temperature had leveled, the light softened, the edges of the world dulled into something manageable. The humming beneath her skin had receded into a distant, tolerable rhythm.
None of it reached her mind.
She lay still, eyes open, staring into darkness that no longer frightened her, only clarified things she had been avoiding. The space behind her remained occupied. Not close. Not far. Exactly where he had placed himself.
Contained. Measured.
It did not comfort her.
It confirmed something.
She moved before the thought fully formed.
The sheets shifted as she sat up, the movement controlled, deliberate, without hesitation. She did not look back at him. She did not need to confirm he was awake.
She crossed the room and left.
The door closed quietly.
Cael's eyes opened at once.
