Sleep didn’t come easily.It wasn’t anxiety exactly—it was vigilance. The kind that keeps your senses half-awake, listening for shifts that haven’t happened yet but feel inevitable. I lay still beside Adrian, aware of the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solidity of him anchoring the space. Even asleep, he carried tension, like a man who’d learned rest was temporary.When morning came, it arrived without mercy.The first thing I noticed was the quiet. Not peaceful—calculated. The kind of quiet that meant people were watching, waiting to see what would happen next.Adrian was already up when I entered the kitchen, dressed sharply, phone pressed to his ear. He nodded at me once, a silent acknowledgment, then turned away slightly.“Yes,” he said into the phone. “I expected that… No, don’t respond yet… Let it circulate.”He ended the call and exhaled slowly.“She’s testing reactions,” he said. “Leaking selectively. Nothing false. Nothing provable. Just enough to stir discomfort.”I lea
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