[ The 48-Hour Wake]The "observation" wasn’t a medical team in white coats; it was the hum of the Spire itself. Every sensor in our private quarters, every biometric relay, every flicker of the neural link was now being channeled into Hauer’s data-slates. We were in a glasshouse, and the Council was waiting for the first sign of a crack.Jinyan closed the door to our bedroom, and for a moment, we just stood there in the heavy silence. The link was a high-voltage wire—I could feel his frantic need to sweep me into his arms, to hide me, to shield me from the eyes I knew were watching through the walls. But I could also feel his restraint. If he was too aggressive, it was "dominance." If he was too distant, it was "instability.""They're watching the heartbeat, Panni," he whispered, his voice a low, jagged vibration. He didn't move toward me. He stayed by the door, his hands clenched at his sides. "If our pulses sync too closely, they'll call it a dependency glitch. If they don't sync at
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