I sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning under my weight.
The motel room was dim, the flickering neon sign outside casting a pale glow through the thin curtains. Claire had already disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower running a steady hum in the background.
Yelena stood by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her back to me. The tension in her shoulders was unmistakable, her fingers digging into her own arms like she was trying to hold herself together.
I walked up behind her, my hands settling on her shoulders, feeling the way her body tensed at my touch. "Sister Yelena," I murmured, my voice low, pulling her back against my chest. "Are you jealous?"
She tried to push me away, but there was no real strength behind it. "Why would I be jealous?" she muttered, her voice muffled, her head dropping forward. "Who are you to me? What does it matter?"
