Chapter 64 Fading Reflection

• I open my eyes to darkness, the familiar ceiling of our bedroom barely visible in the dim light. For a moment, I just lie there, trying to piece together why my head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. The throbbing pain at my temples makes it hard to think straight.
• Slowly, I turn my head to the side, wincing as the movement intensifies the ache. That’s when I see him. Efrem stands by the window, a dark silhouette against the sliver of light peeking through the curtains. One hand is in his pocket, the other hanging loosely at his side.
• But even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his spine. It’s a posture I’ve come to recognize—Efrem deep in thought, wrestling with some problem or decision.