The city woke up loud.

Even from the 34th floor of the Hawthorne penthouse, New York sounded like it was trying to tell its own story one made of traffic, hurried shoes on pavement, and someone swearing because they missed their bus. But inside their apartment, everything felt… suspended. Like the world had knocked, peeked inside, and decided not to intrude.

Violet walked barefoot into the living room, tugging her sweater tighter around her shoulders. The sun had only begun to stretch across the sky, spilling warm light over the hardwood floor. She had barely slept, but not because of anxiety her mind just wouldn’t settle. It buzzed with thoughts...