“And in those roles,” Juniper began, hyper-aware of Daniel’s placement beside her, “have you ever had to make decisions that affected large groups of people?” His cologne carried stories her skin remembered, each subtle shift of his body a distraction she couldn’t afford. Her questions emerged short and clipped, like staccato heartbeats.

Daniel leaned forward, his sleeve brushing her arm - casual, professional, devastating. He passed her a note. His handwriting blurred before her eyes: “Watch her left hand - she’s gripping when you mention authority.”

Mrs. Vinhyame’s gaze flicked toward Roma - quick, searching, unreadable. Juniper and Daniel’s heads turned in unison, tracking the look before returning to the juror.

Their shared awareness hummed like a plucked string beneath the procedural exchange.