Summary:

Shane was fourteen the first time a number felt like safety.

The nutritionist worked out of an office in Kanata, framed certificates, a calm voice, laminated charts with columns. She explained it simply: fuel in, output required, timing of each. She said it was a starting point.

Shane took notes in the margins the way he took notes on everything—completely, past what was required. Yuna had found the nutritionist herself, sat beside him, and took notes too.

Like mother, like son.

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Or: Shane’s system works until it doesn’t; Ilya notices first.