Nyra should have left twenty minutes ago.
Her keys sat on the counter beside her phone, untouched. Outside, the city was already thinning into that quiet hour before dawn, when even danger paused to breathe.
Elias noticed the delay immediately.
"You're late," he said, not accusing. Observing.
Nyra didn't look up from the sink where she'd been rinsing a mug she hadn't really used. "I know."
"You never are."
That did it.
She set the mug down carefully, like noise might shatter something already thin.
"You keeping track now?" she asked lightly.
"Only when you don't."
Silence stretched between them not tense, not loud. Just heavy.
Elias leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely, giving her space. He wasn't blocking the door. Wasn't trying to stop her.
That mattered.
"You've been quieter," he said. "Not calmer. Just… quieter."
Nyra sighed through her nose. "You diagnose everyone you care about?"
"No. Just you."
She scoffed. "Lucky me."
But she didn't move for her keys.
"You don't spiral loudly," Elias continued. "You slow down. Miss timing. Let habits back in."
Her jaw tightened.
"You smelled it," she said.
"Yes."
"And you waited."
"I didn't want you to lie."
That landed harder than she expected.
Nyra turned away, staring at the window like answers lived out there. "I don't need saving."
"I know."
"I don't need fixing."
"I know."
She faced him then, irritation flashing. "Then what do you want?"
"For you to stop pretending nothing changed."
The room went still.
Nyra laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Something always changes."
"This one stayed," Elias said. "You got hurt. And instead of slowing down, you tightened everything around it."
Her fingers curled at her sides.
"If I slow down," she said quietly, "things break."
Elias shook his head. "If you don't, you do."
The words were gentle. That was the worst part.
Nyra swallowed. For a moment, it looked like she might argue. Might deflect. Might turn it into something sharp and survivable.
Instead, she exhaled.
"I don't know how to sit with it," she admitted. "The quiet. The after."
"You don't have to like it," Elias said. "Just don't outrun it."
She nodded once. Small. Reluctant.
Then she grabbed her keys.
"I still have to go," she said.
"I know."
He stepped aside, giving her a clear path. No guilt. No pressure.
At the door, she paused.
"You're not wrong," she said without turning around.
Elias met her back with a steady gaze. "I wasn't trying to be."
Nyra left.
The door closed softly behind her.
And as she walked back toward the Eastside, the city waking around her, Elias' words stayed exactly where she didn't want them
Unignored.
Unresolved.
Waiting.