The studio feels unchanged.
Morning light through the high windows.
Couch slightly rumpled.
Cables coiled near the wall.
Predictable.
Laura steps forward.
One.
Two.
Her stride is controlled.
Then—
Something shifts.
Not dizziness.
Not fainting.
Just sudden absence of equilibrium.
Her vision doesn't blur.
The floor doesn't tilt.
But her body hesitates.
As if it misjudged gravity.
Her heel catches slightly against the wooden floor.
Not enough to trip.
Enough to interrupt rhythm.
Her balance falters by a fraction.
A small, inelegant sway.
It would go unnoticed by anyone not watching closely.
Axel is watching closely.
Laura straightens instantly.
Overcorrects posture.
"I'm fine."
She hasn't fallen.
She hasn't even stumbled visibly.
But she says it anyway.
Automatic defense.
Her heart does not spike.
That is the strangest part.
There is no panic.
No adrenaline.
Just weakness.
A thin thread of instability running through her legs.
Her body feels heavier than it should.
Like standing requires more energy than usual.
She takes another step.
It feels delayed.
Signal sent.
Response slower than expected.
Her fingers flex unconsciously at her sides.
Grounding.
She refuses to reach for the piano bench.
Refuses to lean.
Refuses to repeat last night.
Axel moves before she fully processes it.
Just closer.
Close enough that if she tips again—
He will be within reach.
She pretends not to notice.
"I didn't sleep well," she says.
Measured.
Plausible.
Axel doesn't contradict her.
But his eyes stay on her.
Steady.
Evaluating.
He saw it.
The fractional misalignment.
The way her knee locked slightly to compensate.
The way her breath hitched.
Laura inhales deeply.
Forces steadiness into her spine.
Steps toward the piano.
Each step requires more focus than it should.
She hates that.
Hates that walking now feels like something to concentrate on.
Her hand reaches the edge of the instrument.
Wood cool beneath her palm.
She grips it lightly.
Not leaning.
Just touching.
Reclaiming center.
Her reflection in the glossy surface looks composed.
Alert.
Functional.
The wobble feels almost imagined.
Almost.
Then—
Her knee gives slightly again.
Not collapse.
Just a subtle tremor.
Her grip tightens reflexively.
And this time—
Axel does not wait.
His hand closes around her forearm.
Firm.
Grounding.
Immediate.
Not asking.
Not hesitating.
He felt it too.
And this time—
She cannot pretend she didn't.