Her tone was concern with a bow on it. Her eyes flicked quickly to Elena, then back to Fernando, like she was checking if the world was still under control.
Fernando forced himself to return the smile. “Yeah. Just… wrapped up sooner.”
Viven nodded, gliding toward the counter where a glass of orange juice sat waiting like it always did.
“Elena needs her routine,” Viven said, as if explaining something to a stubborn child. “She’s been more fatigued lately.”
Elena’s gaze darted to the orange juice.
Then to Viven’s face.
Then down again.
Fernando felt his stomach twist.
That tiny movement, that reflexive check-in, was small enough to miss if you weren’t looking for it.
Now that Caleb’s words had lodged in him, it looked like a bruise.
Viven picked up the glass and smiled at Elena. “Sweetheart, drink this. It’ll help your stomach, remember?”
Elena’s lips parted like she wanted to speak. No sound came.
Her eyes flicked to Fernando for half a second, then snapped away.
Fernando’s voice came out sharper than he meant it to. “What’s in that?”
Viven blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“The orange juice,” he said, nodding toward the glass. “What’s in it?”