The lab felt a little ahead of itself that morning. Not faster—just… fewer collisions. People weren’t waiting on each other as much. Things moved through without that small hesitation at every hand-off. Ron noticed it in the way his coffee cooled untouched.

“I don’t like this,” he said, looking around.

Susan didn’t look up. “You don’t like what?”

“I’m caught up,” Ron said. “That’s not how this place works.”

“That’s because Devon fixed something you didn’t know was broken,” Elise said.

Ron turned slightly in his chair. “I knew things were broken. I just had a system.”

“Your system was waiting,” Elise said.

“It was strategic waiting,” Ron replied.

Devon, from the counter: “It was sitting.”

Ron pointed at him. “It was thoughtful sitting.”

Susan finally looked up. “You’re both wrong. It was avoidance.”

Ron gave her a look. “That’s harsh.”

“It’s accurate,” she said.

James watched the exchange, the way it moved without him needing to guide it. For a second, he tried to remember when he had last corrected the flow of a morning like this. Nothing came to mind.

Susan closed a file and leaned back. “I saw him again,” she said.

Ron didn’t hesitate. “We’re going to need a name.”

“No, we’re not.”

“‘The normal one’ is not sustainable,” Ron said.

“It is until he proves otherwise,” Susan replied.

Elise glanced up. “Has he done anything disqualifying yet?”

Susan smiled faintly. “No.”

“That’s a strong start,” Ron said. “Low bar, but strong.”

Devon turned slightly. “What does he do?”

Susan hesitated just long enough. “Law,” she said.

Ron nodded. “Ah. So he argues professionally too.”

“That’s your daughter,” Susan said.

“That’s my future problem,” Ron replied.

James looked at Susan. “You like him?”

She shrugged. “I don’t not like him.”

Ron leaned back. “We’re going to need a better answer than that.”

“You’re not entitled to one,” Susan said.

Elise tapped her pen lightly. “Does he listen?”

Susan paused. “Yes,” she said. That surprised her a little.

Ron caught it. “Oh, that’s dangerous.”

“How is that dangerous?” Susan asked.

“Because now you don’t have an excuse,” Ron said.

Susan shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I have plenty of those.”

Devon glanced at her. “You planning to use them?”

“Probably,” she said. “Just not all at once.”

James smiled, more fully this time.

Ron turned back to his screen, then didn’t type. “My wife says I do that,” he said.

“Do what?” Susan asked.

“Answer questions halfway,” Ron said. “Like I’ve already finished the conversation in my head.”

“That sounds accurate,” Elise said.

Ron nodded. “It is. I just don’t always say the rest out loud.”

Susan tilted her head. “Why not?”

Ron shrugged. “Because it sounds obvious to me.”

Devon smiled slightly. “That’s the problem.”

“My wife says that too,” Ron said.

James looked over. “How long have you been married?”

Ron thought about it. “Long enough that I don’t answer that question precisely anymore.”

“That’s a real answer,” Susan said.

“It’s the safest one,” Ron replied. He paused. “She’s the one who made me tour schools with my daughter,” he added. “I would’ve just said, ‘Pick one.’”

“That’s not helpful,” Elise said.

“It’s efficient,” Ron said.

“That’s not the same thing.”

Ron nodded. “That’s what she says.”

There was something steady about the way he said it. Not resigned. Just… settled. James noticed that.

Devon stepped over, holding a printout. “Hey,” he said to Ron, “you’re going to like this.”

Ron took it. “If this is more efficiency, I’m out.”

“It’s a consult request,” Devon said. “From a group we haven’t worked with.”

Ron scanned it. “Why us?”

Devon shrugged. “They asked for you.”

Ron looked up. “Specifically?”

“Specifically.”

Ron sat back. “That’s suspicious.”

“It’s good,” Susan said.

“It’s responsibility,” Ron replied.

James leaned over slightly. “You’ll be fine.”

Ron glanced at him. “That’s not reassuring.”

“It’s accurate,” James said.

Ron held his gaze a second, then nodded. “Okay,” he said. But he read the page again.

At home, Selah had spread her notes out wider than usual, like she was trying to see everything at once. She didn’t look up immediately. “They argued about universalism again,” she said.

James set his keys down. “Same group?”

“Yeah,” she said. “But different people talking this time.”

Deanna leaned against the counter. “That helps.”

Selah nodded. “It did.” She flipped a page, then stopped. “One guy said if everyone ends up with God eventually, then it doesn’t matter what you believe now,” she said. “It all gets corrected.”

“And someone disagreed?” James asked.

Selah looked up. “Yeah.”

“How?” Deanna said.

“They said if it doesn’t matter now, then it doesn’t matter at all,” Selah said. “Because nothing you do has weight.”

Deanna nodded slowly. “That’s the tension.”

Selah looked at her. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s always there,” Deanna said. “Judaism doesn’t remove it. You’re responsible for how you live, even if there’s mercy.”

Selah turned toward her. “So it’s not about where you end up?”

“It’s about how you live in the relationship,” Deanna said.

James leaned back slightly. “Catholicism tries to define that relationship,” he said. “Grace, confession, structure. It’s not random.”

Selah looked at him. “Do you believe it works like that?”

James paused. “I was taught that it does,” he said.

Selah held that for a second, then nodded. Tess stepped in, drying her hands.

“In the Church, you must still answer,” she said. “You are not carried all the way without choosing.”

Selah smiled faintly. “No one’s making it easy.”

Tess smiled back. “It is not supposed to be easy.”

Selah looked down at her notebook again. “One girl talked about Sikhism,” she said. “She said what matters is living truthfully, not the label.”

Deanna nodded slightly. “That’s closer to something real.”

Selah looked up. “Closer to what?”

Deanna walked over, resting her hand lightly on the table. “Do you know why we named you Selah?” she asked.

Selah blinked. “Pause.”

“Not just pause,” Deanna said. “It means stop. Reflect. Let something settle before you move.”

Selah didn’t write anything down. “So I don’t have to decide yet,” she said.

Deanna shook her head. “No.”

Selah nodded slowly. “I think I’ve been trying to land somewhere too fast.”

James watched her. “You don’t have to,” he said.

Selah looked at him. “I just don’t want to be wrong,” she said. No one answered that.

Later, Tess was at the sink again. “You are thinking too much,” she said.

Selah leaned against the doorway. “That’s what everyone says.”

Tess smiled. “Then maybe it is true.” Selah shook her head, but she was smiling too.

That night, James woke without moving. The ringing was already there. Not louder. Just… present.

Deanna shifted beside him. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t ask anything else right away. Then: “I had a resident push back today,” she said.

James turned slightly. “On what?”

“Everything,” she said. “Which is good.” James waited.

“I used to shut that down immediately,” she said. “Correct it before it went anywhere.”

“And now?”

“I let him keep going,” she said. “Even when he was wrong.” James nodded.

“He figured it out,” she added. “Took longer. But he got there.” The room was quiet.

“I didn’t need to be right immediately,” she said. “That’s new.”

James looked at her. “That sounds… better.”

“It is,” she said.

She reached for his hand. “You don’t have to solve everything right away,” she said. He didn’t answer. But he didn’t pull away.

The next morning, the lab was already moving. James sat at the scope. Adjusted the slide. For a moment, it all lined up. Clear. Exact. Familiar. He stayed there a second longer. Then moved on.

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