I slammed the reports onto the desk, the teacup beside them wobbling dangerously but staying upright. The lavender scent you’d carefully chosen for this room—our sanctuary—felt like an insult tonight. It mocked me with its calmness, a cruel contrast to the chaos pounding in my skull.

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to tell them to act? Just today, they proposed another damned committee to ‘assess resource allocation.’ Meanwhile, Jinx fires another rocket into our streets, and Zaunites are tearing apart our borders piece by piece. It’s not a strategy meeting we need—it’s a bloody miracle.”

My voice broke on the word miracle, and I pressed my palms hard against the desk, letting its cool surface ground me. The rain outside slammed against the windows, the irregular rhythm like cannon fire. I couldn’t stop staring at the map spread before me, its edges curling from overuse. Lines and arrows marked battles won and lost, but it all felt meaningless. I could trace every one of those lines back to a failure—a missed chance to end this before it spiraled.

And then there was you, just behind me. I didn’t have to look to know you were there; I felt the warmth of your presence, the quiet patience I didn’t deserve but selfishly clung to. My throat tightened, my shoulders hunched further. I couldn’t turn around, couldn’t let you see how desperately I needed you.