The silence after the call ended was not normal silence.
It was heavy.
Compressed.
Like the room itself had forgotten how to function.
Camille still held the phone in her hand, but she wasn't looking at it anymore.
She was staring at nothing.
Dante was the first to move.
He crossed the room in two steps and gently took the phone from her fingers, placing it on the desk like it might break something if it stayed in her hand too long.
Camille didn't react.
That alone worried him more than anything else.
"Camille."
No response.
"Camille."
Her eyes finally shifted slightly toward him.
But it didn't feel like she was fully there.
"I spoke to her," she said quietly.
Dante's expression tightened.
"I know."
Camille blinked once.
Slowly.
As if trying to process reality in fragments.
"She knows my name."
"Yes."
Camille swallowed.
"And I've never met her."
Dante didn't answer immediately.
Because that part didn't make sense to him either.
