By the time the next day came, I was already tired.
Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix, but the kind that settled somewhere deeper, lingering no matter how much I tried to ignore it.
I moved through my morning routine without thinking, going through the motions out of habit more than anything else. Everything felt familiar—getting dressed, packing my bag, stepping out of the mansion—but none of it felt grounding.
If anything, it made the restlessness in my chest more obvious.
Because no matter how normal everything looked—
It didn't feel that way.
The hospital didn't help.
Usually, the steady rhythm of the day was enough to keep my thoughts from spiraling. The constant movement, the structure, the routine—it gave me something to focus on.
Today—
It wasn't enough.
I found myself rereading the same notes twice, missing small details I normally wouldn't overlook, losing track of time between tasks.
"Sophie?"
I blinked, looking up to find Sasha watching me from across the nurses' station, her brows drawn together slightly.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said quickly, straightening. "Just tired."
She didn't look convinced.
"You've said that three times already," she replied, crossing her arms. "What's actually going on?"
I hesitated.
Because I didn't know how to answer that.
"I just… didn't sleep well," I said finally.
Sasha held my gaze for a second longer before sighing. "If you say so."
She didn't push further, but I could feel it—that quiet awareness, the way she was watching me more closely now.
Noticing.
Everyone was noticing.
And somehow—
That made everything feel worse.
I didn't realize how distracted I was until I almost ran into someone.
"Hey—"
I stopped short, my breath catching slightly as I looked up.
Samuel.
"Sorry," I said quickly. "I wasn't looking."
"It's fine," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You okay?"
The question felt heavier coming from him.
More direct.
More real.
"Yeah," I said again.
But this time—
It didn't sound convincing.
He didn't move right away.
Didn't step aside or brush it off like he normally would.
Instead, he stayed there, his gaze searching mine in a way that made it harder to look away.
"You don't seem okay," he said.
I let out a small breath, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. "I'm just tired."
"You keep saying that," he replied.
There was no accusation in his tone.
Just quiet concern.
And somehow—
That made it harder to deflect.
I hesitated, my fingers tightening slightly around the file in my hand. "It's just been… a lot."
"Work?" he asked.
I shook my head.
Not just work.
But I didn't say that.
Samuel seemed to understand anyway.
He always did.
"You don't have to figure everything out at once," he said.
The words were simple.
But they landed deeper than I expected.
Because that was exactly what it felt like.
Like I was being pulled in two directions, both demanding something I wasn't ready to give.
"I know," I said quietly.
But knowing didn't make it easier.
Later that afternoon, I found myself alone in one of the empty corridors.
Not because I needed to be there.
But because I needed a moment.
A break from everything pressing in on me at once.
I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes briefly as I exhaled slowly.
This isn't supposed to be this hard.
The thought came uninvited.
Because it hadn't always been like this.
Things used to be simple.
Clear.
I knew where I stood.
I knew what I felt.
Now—
Everything felt uncertain.
Unsteady.
Like I was standing on something that could shift at any moment.
I opened my eyes again, staring down the hallway without really seeing anything.
Because no matter how much I tried to sort through it—
Nothing made sense.
By the time I got home that evening, the exhaustion had settled into something heavier.
The mansion was quiet again, the familiar stillness greeting me as I stepped inside.
For a second, I just stood there.
Not moving.
Not thinking.
Just… there.
Because I didn't know what I was walking back into anymore.
Harley was in the living room.
Of course he was.
Sitting in the same spot, his posture relaxed but his attention distant, like always.
Our eyes met briefly.
And for a moment—
Everything felt too close.
Too real.
"You're home," he said.
"Yeah."
I didn't move further into the room.
Didn't sit.
Didn't stay.
"I'm going upstairs," I added quietly.
He didn't stop me.
Didn't ask how my day was.
Didn't say anything else.
And somehow—
That made everything worse.
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts circled back to the same place.
To Samuel.
To Harley.
To everything that hadn't been said.
And everything that almost had been.
I turned onto my side, staring at the faint light spilling through the curtains, my chest tightening with something I couldn't quite name.
Because the truth was—
I wasn't okay.
Not even close.
And the longer I stayed like this—
Caught in the middle, trying to hold everything together—
The more it felt like something was going to break.