Marlowe
Three days of silence from King turned out to be considerably louder than any argument we'd ever had, and by the third morning I'd started flinching every time his office door opened down the hall, bracing for a coldness that never quite arrived as anger and never quite left as anything else either.
He wasn't cruel. That would have almost been easier. He was simply careful, distant, every interaction reduced to exactly what club business required and not one word more — the thermostat war gone quiet, the garage doorway empty of anyone lingering too long, a whole warm routine I'd only just let myself get used to folded neatly away like it had never happened at all.
Nova found me staring at nothing in the mess hall, untouched food in front of me, and didn't bother easing into it.
