MICHAEL

I don’t notice it at first.

It’s King who does.

He’s standing near the coffee table, twisting the cap of a soda bottle, eyes fixed on Aliana in that too-quiet way he gets when something feels off to him but he doesn’t have the words to describe his feelings yet. He walks up to her slowly, like she might run.

“Mom,” he says.

She turns immediately. Like she’s been bracing for someone to call her name.

“Hey, baby.” Her smile lands late. Half a second behind.

King frowns. “You feel… different.”

The room stills again.

Aliana laughs lightly. “Different how?”

King shrugs, clearly frustrated. “I don’t know. Just—different. Like...