"Chart?" Priya asked.
"Closed enough."
"And you?"
Claire watched a cab cut a yellow line through the intersection below. "I don't want to text him from the high of completion like I'm ringing a bell for a date. I also don't want to play it cool until the feeling dies of neglect. I'm stuck between dignity and momentum."
Priya sat beside her, shoulder to shoulder. "Dignity with a calendar invite is still dignity. Momentum without asking is just anxiety in nicer shoes."
"What would you do?"
"I would wait forty-eight hours so my nervous system stops confusing 'vaccine done' with 'marriage available.' Then I would send one clear message that doesn't audition."
Claire leaned her head on Priya's shoulder. "You're annoyingly wise for someone who eats cereal at midnight."
"Cereal is very dangerous," Priya said solemnly. "I respect it.".
Isaiah learned the chart had gone quiet on a Friday afternoon between sleep and a grocery run.
He was in the clinic's admin portal finishing continuing-education click-throughs Gwen had nagged him about when Nash Maddox's file showed primary transfer complete, no open callbacks, emergency contact defaults reset. The humming stopped in a way he felt in his sternum.
He sat back in the plastic chair of the staff room and let the fact arrive.
Amina called while he was still sitting there. "You free for Birdie tomorrow? I have a science fair emergency involving baking soda and a child named Tristan who believes volcanoes are a personality."
"I can take Birdie."
"You sound weird again."
"The rain check unlocked."
Amina whistled softly. "And?"
"And I'm going to grocery shop like a man who buys vegetables, sleep like a bat who is trying, and then decide whether texting first is clarity or pressure."
"Texting first after you drew the line is courtesy," Amina said. "You built the door. You can knock. She can not open it. That's the whole point of doors."