Evie noticed it three days after the fever incident.

Which honestly felt unfair.

Because once she noticed it—

she couldn’t stop noticing it.

It started with coffee.

The NOCTURNE kitchen looked half-dead at seven in the morning. Rain tapped softly against the reinforced windows while Kane stood at the counter arguing with the toaster like it had insulted his family.

“I’m telling you this thing has personal issues.”

“It’s a toaster,” Sofia said without looking up from her tablet.

“It burned only my bread.”

“Maybe it knows you.”

Kane pointed angrily.

“See? Workplace bullying.”

Evie wandered into the kitchen still half asleep, curls messy from bed and one sock missing for reasons she no longer questioned.

“Morning, emotionally damaged criminals.”

“Morning,” Kane muttered.

Sofia lifted her coffee slightly in greeting.

Cassian sat near the windows already dressed in black tactical gear, reading something on his tablet while drinking coffee.

Of course he was awake.

Evie was becoming increasingly convinced he powered down instead of sleeping.

She shuffled toward the coffee machine.

Everything hurt.

Not fever hurt anymore.

Just life hurt.

“Who drank the last coffee?”

Kane pointed immediately toward Dominic.

Dominic looked up from his phone.

“I regret nothing.”

“Monster,” Evie mumbled.

She started making another pot automatically.

Coffee grounds.

Water.

Machine.

Routine.

Halfway through reaching for the sugar jar—

Cassian’s voice came quietly from behind her.

“Two.”

Evie looked over her shoulder.

“What?”

“Two sugars.”

Silence.

“…How do you know that?”

Cassian looked back down at the tablet.

“You always use two.”

Evie stared at him.

A weird feeling moved slowly through her chest.

Not bad.

Worse.

Specific.

Kane noticed instantly.

“Oh no,” he whispered dramatically.

Sofia looked up once from the table.

Then immediately went back to her tablet like she didn’t want involvement in whatever psychological event was unfolding.

Evie laughed awkwardly.

“Okay. Weird.”

No response.

She grabbed the sugar anyway.

Two scoops.

Exactly right.

Evie frowned slightly.

Maybe coincidence.

Probably coincidence.

Then she opened the fridge.

A new bottle of oat milk sat inside.

Her brand.

Not NOCTURNE’s usual milk.

Evie paused.

“…Why is this here?”

Kane answered immediately.

“Boss bought it.”

Dead silence.

Across the room, Cassian kept reading the tablet like nothing happened.

Evie slowly looked at him.

“You bought oat milk?”

“You said the regular one tastes ‘aggressively sad.’”

Kane physically stopped chewing.

“Oh my God.”

Evie stared harder.

“That was one time.”

“You stopped drinking coffee halfway through.”

“…That does not explain why you remembered it.”

No answer.

Which was becoming an answer itself.

Evie turned slowly toward the coffee machine again.

Her brain suddenly replayed several deeply concerning moments all at once.

The exact wrench replacement.

The hydration comments.

The way he somehow always appeared with painkillers before she asked.

The fact that her favorite hot sauce had mysteriously appeared in the kitchen last week.

Her stomach tightened slightly.

Oh no.

No no no.

That was—

that was attentive.

Dangerously attentive.

Kane watched her expression carefully.

Then looked toward Cassian.

Then back toward Evie.

Then quietly slid off his stool and walked out of the kitchen without explanation.

Coward.

Evie pointed after him.

“Your team abandons situations emotionally.”

“They adapt quickly.”

She turned back toward Cassian slowly.

“You memorize things.”

“No.”

“You literally memorized my coffee order.”

Silence.

“That’s serial killer behavior.”

“You’ve repeated it every morning for three weeks.”

“That is not helping.”

Cassian finally looked up from the tablet.

Grey eyes steady on hers.

“You have routines.”

Evie forgot what she was about to say for half a second.

Because his tone wasn’t mocking.

Wasn’t defensive.

Just factual.

Like he’d been observing her quietly for weeks without realizing normal people didn’t usually track those details.

Like it genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that this might mean something.

Which somehow made it worse.

Evie crossed her arms.

“That’s unsettling.”

“You dislike being observed?”

“I dislike being professionally studied like a raccoon in a lab.”

A tiny pause.

Then:

“You’re louder than a raccoon.”

Evie blinked once.

“…Was that a joke?”

Cassian took another sip of coffee.

“No.”

“Oh my God, you’re becoming hilarious accidentally.”

Sofia stood abruptly from the table.

“I’m leaving before this gets emotionally complicated.”

“You’re a traitor,” Evie informed her.

“I’m a survivor.”

She walked out immediately.

Smart woman.

Evie looked back toward Cassian.

Still calm.

Still unreadable.

Still somehow remembering absurd tiny things about her life like he’d filed them away automatically.

The realization settled slowly beneath her ribs.

Not dramatic.

Not fireworks.

Something quieter.

More dangerous.

Because this wasn’t flirting.

Cassian didn’t flirt.

He observed.

Adjusted.

Remembered.

Like affection had rerouted itself through tactical processing.

Evie suddenly became hyper-aware of everything.

The way he already knew which mug she always grabbed.

The fact that he automatically moved sharp tools farther from the edge of counters when she walked past.

How he silently handed her ibuprofen before she even complained about headaches.

Tiny things.

Hundreds of tiny things.

Her pulse started acting weird again.

Absolutely unacceptable behavior from her cardiovascular system.

Evie grabbed her coffee quickly.

“Well,” she announced too loudly, “this has been horrifying.”

Cassian watched her over the rim of his cup.

“You’re unsettled.”

“That sounds way too pleased.”

“You’re pacing.”

Evie looked down.

She was pacing.

“Okay, first of all—”

“You tap the mug against your left hand when nervous.”

She stopped moving instantly.

Silence.

Then slowly:

“…You need a hobby.”

Cassian considered that.

“I have several.”

“Murder doesn’t count.”

Another tiny almost-smile appeared near the corner of his mouth.

Gone fast.

But real.

Evie stared at him for one dangerous second too long.

Then immediately turned away and walked toward the hallway carrying her coffee like she was escaping a crime scene.

Behind her, Cassian’s voice arrived calmly.

“You forgot your wrench.”

Evie froze.

Slowly looked down.

Her favorite wrench still sat beside the coffee machine where she’d left it earlier.

Of course he noticed that too.

Of course he did.

Evie grabbed it quickly without turning around.

“This is getting psychologically expensive,” she muttered.

Then she disappeared down the hallway before her heartbeat embarrassed her further.