That night, Victor is quieter in bed than usual. I barely notice at first, exhausted as I am, but then, as I curl up next to him and open my book, I realize that he’s not dozing or looking at his phone but instead is simply staring at the ceiling.
“Are you okay?” I ask, closing my book and turning towards him.
“Hmm?” he asks, snapping out of his reverie. “What?”
“I asked if you were okay,” I respond, putting a hand on his chest and frowning at him. “It’s not like you to be so…pensive. Not even when we were really grappling with the big questions in the forest.”
He sighs and turns to me, laying his head down flat on the mattress. “We need to talk, Evie,” he murmurs, patting the bed beside him. My eyes go wide with surprise – not worry, not really – just…I thought that most of our big c
