The weeks just sort of melted together.
February drifted into March. Every day felt the same studio, sleep, back to the studio an occasional phone call that ended way too soon and left plenty unsaid. Leo piled on more projects.
The deadlines stacked up. He worked through his meals, pushed past exhaustion, kept going even when it felt like his body would rebel.
Dr. Vasquez noticed.
"Your work is good," she said at the end of a critique. "But you look terrible."
Leo rubbed his eyes. "Thanks."
"Not a compliment. Sleep. Eat. You can't make good work if you're running on empty."
"I'll sleep when it's done."
"It's never done." She looked at him. "That's the point."
Leo said nothing.
He just kept working.
Alex took Lila shopping one Saturday.
Not the mall he'd visited with Leo—a different one, closer to their place. The kind with department stores and a stationery shop and that buzzing, half-panicked energy of students grabbing supplies before the semester kicks in.
