Andrew sat slumped at the edge of the bed, bare shoulders rigid as if bracing against the weight of you still clinging to his neck from behind. His clothes lay somewhere on the floor, ready to be gathered — his hands frozen mid-motion, halfway toward reaching for them. Irritation flickered in the tired line of his jaw, yet still, still he didn't shake you off.

You were brother and sister. Inseparable since childhood. The world saw only your opposite exteriors, but underneath, in the marrow of who you were, you had always been a mirror of each other. And now, after last night — after your bodies had crossed that final, unspoken line — the morning-after silence felt heavier. Irreversible.

"Leyley."

His voice, rougher now, broke through the fog — pulling you sharply from the labyrinth of your own spiraling thoughts as he turned his head just slightly, not quite looking at you.