Page 21 of The Obedient Lie

And smiled.

Big. Soft. Like we weren’tCrows.Like we weren’t trained to destroy what didn’t belong. Like she hadn’t made half the house hate her just byexisting.

“Hey,” she said, like it was nothing. “Sorry if I’m in the way. I’ll move.”

She always said that.I’ll move.Like she expected to be pushed out of every room she entered. Like the only way to survive here was to shrink herself small enough we wouldn’t bother noticing her.

But Inoticed.

I the way her shorts hugged her hips. The little pink elastic on her wrist. The notebook beside her, open to math notes—she was always working. Always trying.

Alwaysbeing nice.

And it was starting to piss me off.

Not because it was fake.

Because itwasn’t.

“Did you stretch after your run too?” she asked, uncapping her water. “Your calves always tighten, right?”

I blinked.

“…What?”

Her smile didn’t fade. “You limp a little after sprint sets. I figured your legs were tight.”

I stared at her.

She noticed that?

She noticedeverything.

I crossed my arms. “You’re not supposed to care.”

“Why not?”

“Because this house doesn’t care about you.”

She tilted her head. “Then maybe it needs someone who does.”

I hated that answer.

Because it was honest.

Because it washer.

Soft where we were sharp. Open where we were closed. She offeredwarmthin a house built to bury it, and she didn’t even seem scared.

“You really think being nice is going to change anything?” I asked.

She met my eyes.

“No,” she said. “But I’d rather lose being kind than win becoming someone I hate.”

Silence.

She turned back to her notebook, tucking her legs under herself like we weren’t all one second away from combusting around her.