She took another breath. Let it sit. Let the weight of his words roll off her shoulders like water off armor.
When she finally looked at him again, her expression had shifted. Her eyes had steadied. The softness was still there, but it was tucked carefully behind the glass.
"You can't do that, Cyrus."
He blinked, head tilting slightly.
"Wait for me like that," she added, tone firmer now. "That's not... it's not good for you."
Her hands moved as she spoke, waving vaguely between them like she was trying to untangle invisible string.
"I mean—look at you. Standing out here all night just to make sure I'm okay? That's not normal, Cyrus. That's next-level kindness. People don't do stuff like that. Not unless they're getting something out of it."
He opened his mouth, probably to say something equally poetic and deeply unhealthy, but she held up a finger.
