Eighteen

The room was cloaked in an eerie silence, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Arthur was perched on the edge of the bed, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on the window. I knew he hadn't slept a wink.

I stirred, the soft mattress cushioning my movements. His head snapped in my direction, his eyes wide with alarm.

"You're awake," he breathed, his voice hoarse with sleep deprivation.

"Can't sleep?" I asked, my voice soft.

He shook his head, his jaw clenched. "Can't afford to," he replied, his voice low.

I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. "You need to rest, Arthur. You can't function like this."

He squeezed my hand, a silent plea for understanding. "I can't let my guard down, Morgan. Not when they're out there, waiting for the right moment."

I sighed. "You're not invincible, you know. You need to take care of yourself too."

A flicker of irritation crossed his face. "I'm fine,