That night, the house was silent, but for Alias, the quiet was deafening. He lay on the mat in Maya's room, staring at the ceiling. The air felt thin.
Betrayal. It was a human concept he had only ever observed as a dry, clinical data point. Now, it was a physical weight in his chest, a rough obstruction that made his heart stutter.
And then there was the other word: Sex. The messy, uncoordinated, and apparently loveless act that had resulted in the small life sleeping in their living room.
He couldn't reconcile it. If the body were a vessel for love, how could it be used so casually? How could Theo have shared that 'heat' with a stranger?
Driven by a restless, aching curiosity, Alias stood up. His feet made no sound on the wooden floor. He walked into the living room and paused by the child.
