121. Phase TwoWesley

The night Mum cried, I didn’t sleep.

I heard her before the others did, the soft, shaky breathing, the kind she makes when she thinks no one is listening. Wenda sensed it too, but she was already half-asleep and emotional kids don’t make great strategists.

Me?

I’m different.

I sat up in the lower bunk, knees tucked to my chest, listening through the thin wall. Weston was awake, of course he was, but he waited for me to speak first. He always does.

“She’s crying ...