Lina shifted her weight, crossing one ankle over the other, then glanced over at Noel. Her stylus paused mid-air.
"Noel," she said, soft but certain.
He opened his eyes, gaze unfocused.
"You've been staring at nothing for three minutes."
He blinked. "Just tired."
"You said that yesterday," Alex muttered, not looking up. "And the day before."
Lina tucked her stylus behind her ear, watching him more closely now. "Did something happen?"
Noel's jaw clenched — barely. His face remained neutral, practiced.
"No," he replied, too quickly. "We're fine."
Lina exchanged a look with Alex. Alex raised a brow but didn't speak. Instead, he closed his laptop slowly and leaned back, arms folded.
"You saw something," Lina guessed, careful.
Noel looked between them, lips parting like he might deny it again — but then he sighed, low and shallow.
His voice barely carried over the sound of birds chirping in the trees.
"Just a post."
