I notice Caleb watching me differently.
Not suspicious.
Not tender.
Measuring.
It’s subtle enough that someone else might miss it entirely. The angle of his attention has changed, not its presence. He isn’t tracking me for cues the way he did before, scanning for reassurance or recalibration, waiting for a signal that we’re still moving in sync. He’s assessing instead. Taking in pace. Direction. Outcome. Like someone trying to understand a current by watching how the surface moves rather than stepping into the water.
He waits for me to check in.
I feel it in the pauses he leaves open. The spaces where a glance used to be exchanged, where a quiet alignment would have happened without words. He slows just enough to allow for it. Not stopping. Just making room, the way you do when you e
