“Grandma?” The name slipped out before I could stop it—a reflex, disbelieving.

Rafayel reacted instantly, his arms tightening around me before lowering me to the floor with controlled urgency.

“Rafayel? Are you hurt?” Grandfather stepped forward, his practised hands already scanning Rafayel’s frame for injuries.

“I’m fine.” Rafayel’s reply was clipped, his posture rigid with unspoken vigilance.

Grandpa’s grip tightened on my arm. “Wait, you’re unharmed? Everyone’s saying someone’s been following you. Trying to hurt you.”

I pulled my arm free, irritation flaring hot in my chest.

“I’m fine,” I snapped, echoing Rafayel’s terseness. Their sudden concern felt suffocating, performative even. Where was this worry when I actually needed it?...