The study was dim — only the desk lamp on, casting long shadows across the bookshelves and the half-empty teacup Elena had brought up earlier.

I had barely touched the snack beside it; the scone sat cold, crumbs scattered like tiny accusations. My laptop screen glowed blue-white in the dark, open to spreadsheets I hadn’t looked at in twenty minutes. I was staring at nothing, fingers resting on the trackpad, when Rafiq appeared in the doorway — silent as always, hands clasped behind his back.

Not now! I knew where this was already going.

I felt him before I saw him.

The air changed, heavier, expectant.

I didn’t turn my...