Lyanna chattered on about cruises and reconnection, her words soft and rehearsed. “You deserve this, Eleanor,” she said, using my first name more than she had in a decade. “You’ve given your whole life to others.” Then, her tone shifted almost imperceptibly. She asked about my medications, specifically the little blue pills for my blood pressure. I saw her eyes flick down to her phone as she typed something.

That evening, dinner was in the captain’s lounge. The fog in my head had lingered all day, a persistent, clinging fatigue. When dessert arrived, Lyanna reached for the teapot. “A different blend,” she