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"What did you ask 𝗛⃥𝘪̸𝗺⃥ for?” you ask, fingers deep in soil, eyes fixed on the seedling you’re repotting.

Annika doesn’t say anything -of course she doesn’t- but there’s a tense expectation in the air.

You glance up, freezing at the pointed look she gives you. She's never met your gaze before, but her cool green eyes are focused on you now.

“…What did 𝗛⃥𝘦̸ take?” you try again. But you know the answer. You know.

Her fingers begin to move – slowly, for your benefit.

“I used to sing.”

 

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