ARIA
We returned to the room quietly and Kael helped me from the wheelchair to the bed without being asked.
He didn't make a production out of it; he just stepped in close, his hands careful and sure as they supported my weight.
His palms were warm through the thin fabric of my sleeves. Once I was settled, he sat in vinyl chair beside me, leaning back and looking straight at the opposite wall.
His jaw was set, a tight, hard line. I didn't look away from him; I just watched the side of his face, watching the way the dim light caught the edge of his cheekbone.
The silence was heavy. It wasn't a bad kind of silence, exactly. It didn't feel cold or hostile. It was just full of everything we hadn't said since we left his father hanging.
I was the one to break it. I couldn't just sit there watching him stare at a blank piece of drywall.
"You're angry," I said. My voice sounded small in the quiet room, rough around the edges from lack of use.
