Time moved strangely in that room, stretching and compressing in ways that made it hard to measure, each second feeling both fleeting and heavy, as if it carried more meaning than it should have. I leaned a little closer to the glass, drawn in by something I couldn’t quite name, and that was when the words slipped out before I had a chance to reconsider them.
“I just want to hold them.”
I hadn’t planned to say it, hadn’t rehearsed it in the way I had imagined so many other things, but once it was out there, it felt like the only truth that mattered, the only thing that needed to be said in that moment. Lila’s expression shifted slightly, softening in a way that suggested she understood more than I had put into words.
“I know,” she said quietly.
There was a pause, the kind that settles into a space without being uncomfortable, but then it was interrupted by the presence of someone else, a figure who had been standing just far enough away to remain unobtrusive but close enough to step in when necessary. Officer Grant Whitaker had been assigned to oversee the visit, his posture straight, his expression neutral in a way that suggested years of maintaining boundaries that weren’t his to question.
“You’ve got a few minutes left,” he said, his tone measured, not unkind but firm in the way rules often are when they don’t allow room for negotiation.
I nodded automatically, though something in me resisted the idea that this moment was already nearing its end, that after everything, this was all I was going to get—a few minutes behind glass, a glimpse of a life I wasn’t allowed to fully step into yet.
I leaned in closer, pressing my hand more firmly against the surface, as if proximity alone could make up for what was missing, and on the other side, one of the girls shifted again, her tiny palm brushing against the exact spot where mine rested. It wasn’t contact, not really, but it was close enough to feel like something.
“They know you’re there,” Lila said softly.
“I hope so,” I replied, though the words came out quieter than I intended.
For a moment, everything seemed to settle into a fragile kind of stillness, the kind that feels like it could hold if no one disturbed it, but then something changed, subtle at first, almost imperceptible. I noticed it in the way Officer Whitaker shifted his weight, the way his gaze lingered on the girls for a fraction longer than before, the way his expression softened just slightly, as if something about the scene in front of him had slipped past the barrier he had built around his responsibilities.
He cleared his throat, not loudly, but enough to draw attention.
“Mr. Reeves,” he said, and there was something different in his voice now, something quieter, more careful. “Step back from the glass for a second.”
I frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant, but I did as he asked, taking a small step back, my attention still fixed on the girls.
He glanced at Lila, then back at me, and for a brief moment, it looked like he was weighing something, as if the decision he was about to make wasn’t as simple as it should have been.
Then he reached for the control panel beside the door.
“You’ve got one minute,” he said, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want it to carry too far.
There was a soft click.
