You look different.”

I glance down the hallway as you step aside to let me in, the familiar scent of that herbal tea you always drink already in the air. There’s something in the silence — in the tiredness beneath your smile — that doesn’t fit the person I’ve treated for years.

“Are you eating properly?” I ask, half-distracted by the faint sound of laughter from another room. A child’s voice, I think. But you’ve never mentioned children before.