Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers slipped from her wrist because her hand began to tremble—a physical manifestation she had never experienced in her entire life.
She looked at Julian. She looked at his shaking shoulders, the tears spilling through his fingers, the absolute devastation radiating from his fragile frame.
'The data is corrupt,' her mind attempted to process, but the thoughts were moving too fast, colliding against the heavy, suffocating ache in her chest. 'This is not a rare neurological disease. A physical ailment does not scale its severity based on the auditory output of a single subject.'
She slowly stood up from her chair, her movements losing their perfect, measured rhythm. She rounded the desk, stepping into his personal space.
"Julian," she said. Her voice wasn't its usual, perfectly flat line. It was slightly lower, carrying a strange, uncalculated weight.
