And the air sharpened.
“Columbia?”
Graham’s voice cut in like a blade sliding between ribs. Lena froze, hands hovering midair as if caught in a photograph.
She turned slowly.
He was staring at her, not with annoyance, not with casual entitlement, but with something she couldn’t name. Something hungry.
“What university?” he asked, the words quiet but dangerous.
Lena felt the old panic rise, familiar as a bruise pressed too hard. She’d been careful. For two years, she’d been careful. She’d built a small, boring life in Queens with thrift-store furniture and a cracked mirror and a lockbox under her bed that held the remains of who she used to be.
She forced her fingers to still.
“It was just a few classes,” she said. “Nothing important.”
Graham stepped closer.
“Nothing important,” he repeated, as if tasting the lie. His gaze flicked to his mother, who was watching them with a smile that suggested she enjoyed trouble when it wore nice shoes. Then he looked back at Lena.
“You sign fluently,” he said. “You mentioned linguistics. And I’m betting that’s not the only language you know.” His eyes narrowed. “What else are you hiding?”
Lena’s pulse stuttered.
The question wasn’t just curiosity. It was recognition’s cousin, the one that knocks on your door at night.
“I should get back to work,” she said, reaching for the wine bottle like it was a life raft.
A hand closed around her wrist.
Not rough. Not bruising. Just firm enough to stop time.
The contact sent a shock through her system she hated herself for feeling. Graham’s hand was warm, his grip controlled. When she looked up, his expression had shifted.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice lower. “That was… unnecessarily harsh.”
Lena glanced down at his expensive watch, the manicured nails, the clean skin that had never known the desperation of scrubbing a bathroom floor at dawn. Then she looked past him to his mother and signed quickly:
Your son has sharp edges.
The woman’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh.
He thinks it makes him safe, she signed back.
Graham watched their exchange, suspicion sharpening his cheekbones.
“What did she say?” he asked.
Lena’s cheeks warmed.
“She said… you work very hard.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not all she said.”
Lena could have lied. She should have lied. But something about the mother’s amused face made it feel impossible.
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