The click of the latch open echoed too loudly in the quiet apartment. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that came from people trying very hard not to disturb the air around them.

Ina slipped off her shoes without a word and headed straight for the kitchen sink, turning on the faucet and scrubbing her hands even though there was nothing on them. River watched her from the doorway, loosening his tie, unsure if he should speak or just let her breathe.

Jane hovered between them, hands wringing the edge of her shawl like she was scared to let go of it.

"Ina," River said softly.

She didn't turn. Water hit the metal sink too loudly. "Mm."

He exchanged a glance with Jane before stepping closer. "You didn't eat anything this morning. You should... maybe have something now."

"I'm not hungry."

"It's just—"

"River," she said, voice thin, "Please. Not right now."

River's mouth shut. The faucet clicked off. Ina walked past him, eyes on the floor, as if making eye contact might break something.

Jane sighed. "I'll... make soup. Or try to." Neither answered.

It was a little past afternoon. The harsh sunlight from earlier had softened, slipping into the room in fading waves and casting long shadows across the floor.

The three of them ended up in the living room together anyway, not by desire, just by the natural pull of being in the same home. Ina sat on the far corner of the couch, knees tucked up, sleeves covering her fingers. River sat across from her, flipping through some documents. Jane pretended to scroll through her phone, trying to pretend she wasn't monitoring both of them.

The quiet hum of the television in the background couldn't cut the tension in the room.

"How... are you feeling?" River finally asked, placing the files down.

Ina didn't look up. "Fine."

Jane looked up sharply, because Ina did not sound fine.

River exhaled through his nose. "If something happened in there, it's okay to tell me."

Ina's eyes flicked up for the briefest second with the kind of look someone gives when they feel cornered, even if unintentionally.

"Why would something have happened?" she said, too quickly.

"I didn't say it did."

"You implied it."

River blinked. He hadn't meant to. Not even close. But Ina, brittle and fragile, heard everything sideways these days.

Jane shifted uncomfortably. "Guys..."

Ina stood abruptly. "I'm going to the balcony."

Before either could respond, she grabbed her lighter and cigarettes and slipped out, sliding the door shut behind her.

Ina leaned on the railing. The wind was cold. But she lit the cigarette anyway, cupping her hand over the flame, inhaling like it was the only thing keeping her together. Her shoulders curled inward, a shrinking silhouette against the bright sky.

Through the glass door, River watched her. He wasn't angry. He wasn't suspicious.
He was scared. And tired. And confused.

She looked smaller than he remembered.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was the secretary calling about the documents.

He hesitated before replying. Not out of secrecy, but a dilemma, because he didn't know which situation to handle first. 

Ina glanced inside at that moment, just in time to see him discussing the documents. Her eyes flicked to his controlled words, and she immediately looked away, jaw tightening.

She blew out smoke like she was exhaling something heavier.

Later, the three of them were huddled at the dining table. The tension between them was thick enough to slice through. River quietly ate the salad while Ina sat opposite him, poking around in her plate. Jane cleared her throat as she placed the fork in her mouth.

"What were you looking at earlier?" she asked River, trying to make casual conversation.

"Just work. Had to review them for the meeting," he replied in a quiet voice, without looking up. 

The room again fell silent. After a few minutes, Ina pulled the lighter out of her pocket. River glanced up and opened his mouth, but closed it right after.

"Can you not look at me like that?" Ina sighed.

"...Like what?" He felt as if he were walking on needles.

"Like you're waiting for me to say something wrong."

River sat back, stung but holding it in.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

Silence. Jane scraped her fork loudly.

— —

Jane had retreated to her room hours ago, exhausted from playing referee without a whistle. River waited until the apartment was quiet before knocking gently on Ina's door.

"Ina? Can I... come in?"

There was a pause. Then a faint, "Yeah."

He pushed the door open. The room smelled faintly of cigarettes despite the open window. Ina sat on the edge of the bed, fingers worrying at the sleeve hem.

River sat down beside her, leaving space between them.

"You seemed... off today," he said quietly.

Ina's eyes lifted, confused and stung. "Everyone keeps saying that."

He exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "I just... want to help."

"I know." Her voice was thin but honest. "I know that. I'm just... I don't know what's happening."

"You don't have to know," he murmured. "You can just talk to me."

Ina swallowed. Her throat bobbed. She wanted to. But her mind kept replaying Veronica's voice... her own shaking answers... the doubt she felt for the first time in years.

"I'm tired, River," she whispered. "I don't want to think anymore."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. I won't push."

A beat.

"But please don't shut me out."

Ina looked down at her hands. "I'm not."

But they both knew she was. Not intentionally. Not maliciously. Just instinctively, the way wounded things curl in on themselves.

River looked at her for a long moment before standing.

"Goodnight," he said softly.

"Goodnight."

He closed the door gently behind him.

Ina stared at it long after he left, as if she was waiting for it to swing back open.

— —

Later that night, Jane emerged from her room for water and spotted River sitting alone on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.

"Hey," she whispered. "You two okay?"

River rubbed his face with both hands. "Yeah."

She raised a brow. "You're both terrible liars."

River's lips twitched despite himself. "We're just... tired."

Jane softened. "You're worried about her."

"Of course I am."

Jane hesitated, then sat beside him. "She's scared, River. And confused. She feels like she's falling apart and dragging us with her."

He didn't respond.

"And you're scared too," she added quietly.

River looked up at her, startled that someone else had said it out loud.

Jane gave him a small, sad smile. "But neither of you knows how to say it."

She squeezed his shoulder before heading back to her room. River sat alone again, the apartment still and heavy around him.

— —

Ina lay awake in her room, staring at the ceiling. For the first time, she felt something she had never felt in her life: Doubt.

Not about herself. Not about the detectives. Not even about the day of the incident.

Doubt about the one person she never thought she'd doubt, and she hated it.

She closed her eyes tightly and whispered into the dark, "I don't want to think anymore..."

But thinking was all she had left.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁