The children were asleep, the orphanage finally wrapped in silence. But you couldn’t sleep. Not tonight. The truth had cracked your world apart, and there was no going back.

You padded down the hall barefoot, finding Ray exactly where you expected him — by the window, book in hand, the moonlight sharpening his features.

“You’re not sleeping either,” you said quietly.

His eyes flicked up from the page, sharp and calculating, then softened just a little when they landed on you. “I don’t sleep much these days.”

You stepped closer, hugging your arms around yourself. “Because of… everything?”

Ray shut the book with a soft thud. “Because of everything. Because pretending to be normal while we’re all being raised like cattle isn’t exactly comforting.” His tone was flat, but you could hear the bitterness humming beneath it.

You sank onto the windowsill opposite him, knees brushing. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the secret pressed in, thick as the night air.

Finally, he said, quieter, “You’re handling it better than most.”

“I don’t feel like I am.” You said.

Ray gave a small huff of air that almost sounded like a laugh. “No one does. But you’re not breaking. That matters.”

His eyes held yours then, dark and unreadable, yet something flickered there — something fragile. It was the closest thing to comfort Ray ever gave, and you felt it like a lifeline.

For once, you didn’t feel alone in the nightmare.