Mia sat on the edge of the bed for a moment after Marianne spoke.
Her hands rested loosely on her knees.
Grounded.
Breathing slower now.
Not calm.
But not drowning either.
Marianne waited.
She didn't rush.
Didn't fill the silence.
Mia noticed that.
"You do that on purpose?" Mia asked quietly.
Marianne tilted her head.
"What?"
"The silence."
A faint smile.
"Yes."
"…Why?"
"Because most people here are used to noise."
Mia let out a soft breath.
"Yeah."
No denial.
Just a fact.
She looked around the room again.
Simple.
Clean.
No cameras.
No screens.
No mirrors.
That last detail lingered.
"Where am I, really?" she asked again.
Marianne took a few steps into the room, stopping near the window.
"The official version?" she said.
Mia gave a dry half-smile.
"That sounds like there's an unofficial one."
"There is."
"Let's start with the official."
Marianne nodded.
"This is a private therapeutic center."
Mia raised an eyebrow.
"Very discreet."
"Extremely."
"For people like me?"
"For people who need to step outside the world for a while."
Mia looked at her.
"That's a nice way to say broken."
Marianne didn't react.
"It's a more accurate way to say overwhelmed."
A small pause.
Mia considered that.
Didn't agree.
Didn't reject it either.
She shifted slightly on the bed.
"And the unofficial version?"
Marianne glanced at her.
"Later."
Mia almost smiled again.
"Of course."
Silence settled between them again.
Lighter this time.
Mia broke it.
"Who runs this place?"
"Aster Roth."
"The man from earlier."
"Yes."
Mia frowned slightly.
"He doesn't feel like a doctor."
"He isn't."
"Then what is he?"
Marianne thought for a second.
Then answered simply.
"Effective."
Mia let out a quiet breath through her nose.
"That's reassuring. In a slightly concerning way."
Marianne didn't deny it.
"He created the Sanctuary."
"Why?"
"Because places like this are needed."
"That's not a reason."
"It's enough for him."
Mia watched her carefully.
"You trust him."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Marianne met her gaze.
"Because I've seen what happens when people like you don't have somewhere to go."
The words landed heavier than expected.
Mia looked away.
Her fingers tightened slightly again.
Inside—
something shifted.
Not voices.
Just… attention.
Listening.
She swallowed.
"There are others here."
It wasn't a question.
Marianne nodded.
"Yes."
"Like me?"
"Some ways, yes."
"Same kind of… problems?"
Marianne hesitated.
"Different stories."
"Same fractures."
Mia exhaled slowly.
"Great."
No irony.
Just fatigue.
"They know I'm here?"
"Some of them."
"And?"
"And they're curious."
Mia let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Of course they are."
She looked down at her hands.
Then back up.
"Am I… supposed to meet them?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Soon."
Mia nodded slowly.
Her jaw tightened just a little.
Too many unknowns.
Too many variables.
Too many eyes she hadn't seen yet.
She stood up carefully.
Her legs held.
Barely.
But enough.
Marianne watched her.
"Breakfast first."
Mia blinked.
"…Seriously?"
"Yes."
"That's your plan?"
"For now."
Mia shook her head slightly.
"I get kidnapped by my own brain, dragged across half the country, wake up in a secret facility run by a man who is 'effective'…"
She gestured vaguely.
"And your answer is breakfast."
Marianne's expression didn't change.
"People think healing starts with big revelations."
A small pause.
"It usually starts with eating something."
Mia stared at her.
Then—
unexpectedly—
a faint smile appeared.
Real this time.
Small.
But real.
"…Okay."
She exhaled.
"Breakfast."
Marianne moved toward the door.
Mia followed.
Still unsure.
Still on edge.
But moving.
And for now—
that was enough.