Zoe POV

The light comes through the window the way it always does here—steady, indifferent, belonging to a morning that has no particular interest in what happened the night before. I've been watching it change for the last hour, tracking the shift from grey to pale to the flat white of full morning, and beside me Noah hasn't slept either. I can tell by the quality of his stillness. It's the stillness of someone who is awake and thinking rather than the stillness of someone who has ...