The silence on the way home felt heavier than before.

  Claire walked beside me, hands folded in front of her this time.

  “Kai,” she said carefully.

  The way she pronounced it felt forced, like stepping onto thin ice.

  “Yes?”

  She nodded once, as if confirming it to herself. “Are you hungry?”

  “I think so.”

  It was a strange answer. I wasn’t sure if I was hungry. I wasn’t sure if I was anything. But saying I don’t know again felt wrong.

  We reached the house.

  Claire unlocked the door, then paused.

  “…Kai,” she repeated quietly, almost under her breath.

  I watched her shoulders tense slightly before she pushed the door open.

  Inside, nothing had changed.

  The same hallway.

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  The same faint creak in the floorboards.

  The same framed photographs lining the wall.

  My eyes drifted to one of them.

  Rey and Claire.

  Smiling.

  Happy.

  I stared at the man in the picture.

  He looked like me.

  But he didn’t feel like me.

  “Do you want me to take those down?” Claire asked suddenly.

  I turned to her. “What?”

  “The photos,” she said. “If they make you uncomfortable.”

  I hesitated.

  Did they?

  I walked closer to the frame. Studied the expression on that version of me.

  He looked certain. Anchored. Like he belonged in his own skin.

  “I don’t mind,” I said finally. “He’s not me anymore.”

  The words came out calmer than I expected.

  Claire didn’t respond immediately.

  “Okay,” she said softly.

  I glanced at my hand.

  The mark was still there.

  A simple human shape.

  No cross.

  It didn’t move. It didn’t pulse. It didn’t react.

  But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

  Claire moved toward the kitchen. “Dinner will take a bit.”

  “Alright.”

  I stayed in the hallway a little longer.

  Staring at the photo.