Dinner was rice and fish.We ate the way we had been eating for weeks now. Comfortably. Without the weight of performance. He refilled my glass. I passed him the serving spoon without being asked. Small things. Automatic things. The kinds of things that happen between people who have learned each other without meaning to.“The review went well,” I said.“I know,” he said.I looked up.“Your supervisor copied the department,” he said. Without looking up from his plate. “Standard procedure.”“Right,” I said.I ate.“She said it was the strongest framework she had seen at my level,” I said.He said nothing.But the fork in his hand slowed.Just slightly. Just for a second.“Chapter four,” I said.He looked up.I held his gaze.“Thank you,” I said. “For the book. For the page number. For…” I stopped. Looked for the right word. “For paying attention.”He looked at me for a long moment. Something moved behind his eyes. That thing I was beginning to recognise. The thing that arrived when so
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