Chapter 193

# CHAPTER 193 MARCUS The observation garden felt different than I remembered—or maybe I was the one who'd changed. I sat on the same bench where Marcus and I used to meet during the isolation study, back when we were both whole enough to maintain something like a relationship. That felt like a lifetime ago. My framework registered the elevated anxiety as Marcus approached across the pathway, but kept it contained, manageable. I could feel nervous without fragmenting, worried without cascading. It was still strange, that stability—like learning to walk after years of crawling. He looked tired. More than tired—hollowed out in the way cascade patients became when they'd been fighting their own consciousness for too long. His gait had the careful precision of someone conserving energy for essential functions only. I knew that walk. I'd walked that way myself not long ago. "River," he said, stopping a few feet away. Hesitant, as if uncertain whether I'd want him closer. "Marcus." I gestured