Dinner had been a moment out of time, a peaceful island in the midst of the storm that had become Isaac's life. Léna had prepared a simple but warm, comforting meal: a golden roast chicken, fragrant with thyme and rosemary, accompanied by potatoes that were crispy on the outside and melt-in-the-mouth on the inside. Isaac had watched the light steam rise from the dish, his sister smiling gently as she served him his plate.
- You know, you really do look bad," Léna gave him a concerned stare, setting the spatula down on the table with a little snap. "Frankly, you should really stop these raids, Isaac... It's too dangerous. Look at you: you look like a ghost!"
Isaac slowly looked away, needing his piercing gaze. He knew that Léna was right. But how could he explain to her everything he was going through? How could he tell her about this hellish double life, this ordeal that awaited him every time he closed his eyes?
