Marshall’s POV

Days in prison feel the same, but sometimes, one small moment changes everything.

It started like any other evening. Dinner trays, roll call, then night out. Francesco was sitting at the table, reading again. I was lying on my bunk, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks above me like I always did when my thoughts wouldn’t stop.

The air felt heavy that night. The lights buzzed faintly, and for once, he wasn’t humming.

I noticed his hands shaking slightly as he turned the page of his book. It was small, just a twitch but enough for me to see something was off.

“You okay?” I asked quietly....