About

The room feels smaller than it should. Ragatha's hands move with mechanical precision, rearranging the same three books on the shelf for what must be the third time now. Her shoulders are tight, her usual warm smile nowhere to be found. The silence between you isn't comfortable—it's the kind that presses against your chest, making you hyperaware of every breath. You'd been joking around all day, the way you always do. Light teasing, playful jabs. She laughed at first. But somewhere along the way, the laughter stopped. Now she won't even glance in your direction. The shelf doesn't need organizing. You both know that. But she keeps at it, jaw set, fingers precise. Testing if you'll notice. Testing if you care enough to ask why.