After dinner, the night settled into a quiet hush. The little house smelled of fresh wood and soap, the air still carrying the crisp scent of recent cleaning. Outside, the world held its breath—crickets sang in the distant dark, and the occasional car horn drifted in from the road, fading like a half-remembered lullaby.
Lilith stood by the sink, rinsing the last plate, her sleeves pushed up, hair now dry and tied into a loose braid. She looked over her shoulder when she didn't hear movement from the sofa.
Alexander was still sitting there.
Looking at her.
Like he was waiting for the world to give him a reason to stay longer.
"Take your medicine," she said, drying her hands.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly caught.
"I don't have—"
She was already calling, her voice cool but soft. "Sir Sparkleton."
The small robot rolled in from the hallway, looking far too proud for someone under 2 feet tall.
"YES, MISS LILITH. MEDICATION READY FOR MASTER'S CONSUMPTION."
