The night did not rush them.

That was the first thing Violet noticed when she returned to Bryan’s apartment the following evening. The city outside still carried its usual pulse, headlights sliding across the street below, distant sirens threading through the air. Inside, everything moved at a different tempo. The quiet had weight, but it was not heavy. It felt arranged, as though the space had been waiting to receive them rather than contain them.

Bryan closed the door behind her with the same controlled care he always used, the sound settling cleanly into the room. Violet did not step away immediately. She stood where she was, allowing the shift...