"You're distracted."
Lyra's voice cut through his thoughts the next day.
Andres looked up.
"…Observing," he corrected.
She studied him for a moment.
"…Something changed."
Not a question.
A statement.
Andres didn't answer directly.
"…Growth," he said.
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…At this pace?"
A pause.
"…You're unusual."
Andres met her gaze.
"So are you."
For a moment—
Neither looked away.
Then Lyra exhaled softly.
"…Fair."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly.
"The disruptions in the market—did you notice?"
"Yes."
"…And?"
"I've adjusted."
She watched him carefully.
"…You didn't ask for help."
Andres tilted his head slightly.
"…Would you have given it freely?"
A faint smile appeared.
"…No."
"Then the outcome is the same."
That answer—
She respected.
Because it wasn't dependence.
It was balance.
"…You're learning fast," she said.
Andres shook his head slightly.
"…I'm remembering how to think."
That line lingered.
Because it revealed something deeper.
Not just intelligence—
Experience.
Loss.
Distance.
Lyra noticed.
But didn't press.
Not yet.