My eyes widen—stunned, hollow, silent.
Kiren Blackwood?
The name echoes inside me like a stone dropped into still water. I stare at him, unable to blink, unable to breathe. His hands are still wrapped around mine, warm and steady, like he's trying to anchor me while pulling the ground out from under my feet.
He rises first, then gently tugs me up with him—so natural, like he's done it a thousand times.
"Let's go eat breakfast," he says, voice calm, maddeningly calm. "Your fish soup is almost ready."
I follow him because my body knows how to move even when my mind doesn't. Shock keeps buzzing inside my skull. This man… this man just said that. How can someone say something so impossible with such a peaceful face?
